The Missing
by Baliansword
Summary: Hephaestion becomes sick in India, and just after recovering is captured by a rebel band of Indians. this shall change his life, Alexander's, and the rest of the Companions. Returning is never quite as easy as one would think. Review!
1. Sickness

**Title**: "Missing"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 1 of ?, "Sickness"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion, and possibly others as we continue

**Summary**: In the midst of a grand campaign Hephaestion becomes ill, and is then taken prisoner by a band of Indian rebels just after recovering. The experience will change him, Alexander, and many others.

**Warnings**: Violence, sexual content, strong language, the usual.

**A/N**: To begin, in my opinion Cassander was indeed part of the campaigns in the East. Also, this is not historically accurate, for there is no account of Hephaestion being taken prisoner. However, it is purely for entertainment value, and I own nothing apart from my own words.

**Dedication**: For my readers, Travis, Maverick, Casey, and the teachers that I'm not listening to when writing this.

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The sun had slipped over the horizon early it seemed, leaving a blood-red hue on the ground. It was so different, this earth, than that of the soil in Pella. India seemed constantly wet, as if secretly it rained. Some even had begun to believe that they had circled the world, and that when it rained the water was falling from this earth onto that of Pella. It was a foolish thought, but one which held merit with some. With the damp ground came other differences. Vines and lush ferns sprouted from the ground, and the trees had thin trunks, but still were as strong as the greatest oaks. Damp earth brought on the cold, infection, and disease. Snakes kept themselves hidden here, disguised as just another root, and maliciously attack soldiers left and right. However, for all of the faults of the earth good things did come from it. Fertile soil would better Macedonian crops, and rains provided water. Wild vegetables and other delicacies grew on the ground as well, or came from it. For each negative there seemed to be a positive. Poisonous vines, which burned the skin when touched, were countered by small roots from a fern that lessened (and at times seemed to cure) fever. Where there were snakes that could kill a grown man with one bite, there were also snakes that were large enough to fry over a fire, and snakes that swallowed eggs whole so that when they were caught and killed the eggs could be extracted. Some bugs smelled terrible, but others tasted good enough to eat if one felt as if they were starving. Yes, India was very different, but the earth did remain slightly the same. If you died, you would return to earth, so in such aspects it was all the same to many.

When they had arrived they had hated this place. It was cold at first, and it rained constantly, yet after the rain the humidity would set in. This place was horrid to begin with, and still was, but they had grown accustom to it. When they had first set up the camps it had been a complete disaster. To begin the winds before the rain had torn them, and when it did rain these tears let in the cold rain. If a tent was left unmarred the rain would still find a way in, and if not from above, it would come from below in floods. It seemed as if there was no higher ground when it rained here. Flooding brought not only cold, but also snakes and other atrocities that many had never before seen. After one was soaked with the cold rain it seemed impossible to warm again until the sun returned, which at times was not for days. Fires were put out and wood would no longer light, and even oil lamps were knocked over, and even the oil when submerged long enough became ineffective. The tents were not the only problem area either. Setting up the granary was also a problem, partially for the same reasons. However there were also animals from the trees that would leap down, and they were wise like humans, for soon enough these beasts were opening the doors and stealing the grain. Weevils also found their way into the grain; they would not kill a man but did not add any flavor to the already bland grains and rice. The horses were not ready for the weather either and many now had foundered, their feet in horrid conditions that even the finest blacksmiths could not attend to. The humidity would have seemed better when discussed in the rain, but even this was not so. Humidity hurt the men, draining them of the water they had in their bodies. The horses could not go far without walking either, which was a terrible cycle as well. When a horse foundered weight was to be relieved from their back, but when they had to carry water for themselves it was instead added, and there were but few horses that did not have this problem. The heat also helped rot the grains, which often were wet and rot faster. All in all India was not where they desired to be, but yet again they no longer noticed. It was now a part of the everyday life of those that followed Alexander on his campaign east.

"How many," the king asked on a humid day. He sat in his tent, hiding from the blistering sun, but the temperature was not much better. Golden hair stuck to the back of his neck, irritating his skin all the more, for he'd not had a chance to bathe in a good week. Exhaustion showed upon his features as well. Beneath his eyes there were dark lines where taunt skin once was. His face had once been shaven, which made him look younger, but today dark hairs covered his cheeks and chin. It was not that it made him look worse, but rather different, and a bit older. He almost resembled his father, briefly, but no one was willing to say it. His eyes seemed almost vacant as well, as if they were drying up with everything else. Yet still he was king, and still he was in charge, and still he was working. The rest of the men were doing what they felt best, some hunting, and others sitting –they had the day to do as they pleased. He, however, still needed numbers.

"Less thirty," his companion, who sat across from him, answered. He was not in a better condition either. His hair was much worse, long and beginning to knot, and it too clung to his neck. He wore a noticeable beard, for he'd given up trying to maintain any sense of youth. At one time he'd looked like a gift from Eros, and still did, but Ares had touched him now. A scar covered his forehead, another his cheek, and many more wound about his body. Yet no matter how somnolent he appeared there was one feature that never seemed to change about him. His cerulean eyes were still bright, like guiding stars or water from the Mediterranean, and in such eyes his soul was bound. Reaching up he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping pooling sweat away, and then replaced a finger to his temple. Again he looked down at the papyrus before him and shook his head before pushing it away, angered at what he saw, for he knew there was nothing he could do to change such. Yes, thirty men had died in the last week. It was a displeasing number.

"Ranks," Alexander then asked. He did not need to know, for truly it did not matter. Any man loss was an important man, and he had learned such over the years. Never in training did an instructor say that men were equal. It was to be thought, but never taught. Many rulers believed that a foot soldier was worth less than a skilled horseman. Alexander, on the other hand, believed that all men were needed. Without one man nothing was balanced amongst the rest. As he glanced to Hephaestion he blinked lazily, yearning for some sort of sleep, but he knew that it would not come. Before Hephaestion had a chance to reply Bagoas stepped through the flaps of the tent, entering, carrying a tray with him. As ordered it was nothing special, stale bread and molding, almost rotten cheese, but it would do for a lunch. Two cups of water sat on the tray as well, still bubbling from the boiling process it had gone through. Cross Hephaestion looked away and began to chew his last nail, which somehow had clung to a dirty finger, and waited for Bagoas to depart. He did not want him there, not in India, and certainly not near Alexander. Yet, like India, it was something that he was getting used to day by day, and he knew that soon Bagoas would not bother him in the slightest. He would just be another pawn in this elaborate game of war.

"Footmen," Hephaestion finally answered as Bagoas left. He picked up a cup of water, glanced at it for a moment, and then began to drink. The water almost burned his throat, but he did not care. He was greedy when it came to water now, or when it came to anything really. It was something that he hated, to know that he would likely kill a man for water now if he had to, even though he knew that in all likelihood there would be more water to follow this cup. Eventually it would rain again, or they'd find another stream of sorts. Never before had he envisioned himself dying of thirst, not even when they crossed into the deserts of Persia did he foresee such a fate. Despite the alluring green ferns that were visible just outside the tent there was not much water. India cheated the eyes of men that tried to cross her. She protected those that Alexander sought out, and Hephaestion had a feeling that wherever these tribes of men were they had plenty of water. Like all species they had adapted.

"We will find more food soon," Alexander finally muttered. It would have helped if he would have believed himself, but even he was no longer sure of anything. He turned his attention to Hephaestion, who was staring out at something outside of the tent, and merely took in the sight of him. Never before had he seen Hephaestion so weak in appearance, even if his morale was still better than even his own. Slowly he was losing weight, and the longer they marched without a settled area to move in to, the worse his color got. Surely he tanned in Persia, but now he was becoming pale, paler than any other Alexander had seen. Slowly he had begun to worry about him. Perhaps he was becoming ill, and if he was Alexander knew that he would never admit it to Alexander. He would keep it from him, if only in hopes to keep Alexander focused on others, and on his mission. Oh dear Hephaestion, the protector of all separate from himself. Alexander licked his lower lip, which by now was flaking, and continued to wonder about his lover's condition.

"Are you well," Alexander asked. Hephaestion did not reply. Instead he continued to stare, as if looking at something, but Alexander knew better. Hephaestion was once again remembering their youth in Pella and Mieza. He could not blame him either, such times were far better than these. Yet each time Hephaestion brought these memories to him his eyes clouded over, rippling like waves, as he recollected. Alexander smiled, pleased just to watch him, and then he spoke again. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," his companion then responded, turning his attention back to him. He frowned for a moment, glancing at his hands as if he were going to speak, then shook his head once. Again he uttered that he was thinking of nothing, but again Alexander knew better. Yes, Hephaestion was once again wondering what would have happened if they had not left Pella. Every now and then Hephaestion would wonder, whether he admitted to it or not, but in the end he would be pleased with the outcome of their Fates. In truth Alexander knew why he came, for him, and they both honored such a pact more than anything else. To the ends of the world Hephaestion would follow him, never once asking anything of him, and never once questioning him, as long as he had his companionship. There were too few men like Hephaestion.

"Do you think me a fool, as the rest of our Companions now do?" Part of him did not want Hephaestion to answer. If he answered truthfully, as he always did, then he may indeed admit to thinking that he was in fact a fool. If a thousand men said such it would not be true. However, if Hephaestion said it just once, then the words would become a knife, on which would twist into Alexander's heart, becoming the end of him. Hephaestion did not answer immediately, but instead sat thinking, this time about Alexander. After a few moments, in which Alexander did not dare breathe, he responded, giving his answer.

"You are not a fool Alexander," Hephaestion told him. As he spoke he wrung his hands together in the hopes of peeling the flaking skin away. He was not nervous, but rather he was fearful of what was going to become of them, the whole of Alexander's empire. "You may be a bit imprudent at times, but you are no fool. It is not so bad, India. We just think it Hades because we are losing to elements that you yourself cannot combat. If it were but a bit different, were we already further into the hearts of these jungles, then you and I both know thirty men would be the price."

Nothing was said after these words. Alexander knew that silence was needed and Hephaestion was obliged to let him have it. In silence he sat, and then he finally found a point in the tent to stare at. He wondered how long it had been since he had lain with Hephaestion. He could not recall such an event in recent memory and was deeply sorry for it. Yes, Roxanne had been in his bed, but there was a reason for this. Still, despite his efforts, she was not with child. Rumors were beginning to surface, spoken here and there, but Alexander knew that he heard few of them. There were many reasons for this, but he knew the majority of the ill-spoken words were put down by Hephaestion, who more or less controlled what was said before Alexander at all times. Bagoas had been to his bed as well, to satisfy a very simple need, but for nothing more. Hephaestion had been forced to understand this, not because Alexander had asked him to, yet instead because he would not approach Alexander. Never would he deny his king, friend, or lover of anything that he wanted, and in this case it happened to be a Persian eunuch who represented a youth that Alexander and Hephaestion now felt they could only remember. Still, Alexander knew that the next chance he had needed to be spent with Hephaestion and no other. He missed his touch, his affections, and most of all he missed having someone in his bed that he could trust. No, not only could he trust him, but he knew also that Hephaestion would be there in the morning when he awoke.

"You need rest," Alexander warned. Hephaestion turned his eyes back to him, and once again Alexander saw how pallid his complexion was. His eyes almost appeared to be sinking back as well, and not only were his lips merely parched, but they looked as if they were cracking due to another ailment. Without faltering he leaned forward and placed the back of his hand against Hephaestion's forehead. He should have been sweating and warm, due to the humidity, but instead he was sweating and cold. Hephaestion tilted his head back and wiped a bead of remaining sweat from his forehead. Alexander frowned, for he had known all along that Hephaestion would hide a sickness from him, but secretly he had hoped he would not.

"I will send for a physician," he declared. Hephaestion shook his head though and placed a hand over Alexander's wrist, drawing him back. It was odd that the most powerful man in the world could be stopped so suddenly. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Hephaestion's eyes, and he then sat back in his chair.

"There are others that need them more than I." Hephaestion always had such a response when Alexander wanted him to see a doctor. At the battle of Gaugamela he had been cut deeply in the back, and instead of seeing a doctor he waited. Alexander had ordered him tended too, but his word was not worth much to Hephaestion when he believed he was doing the right thing. For five hours he went untreated, and he now bore a scar upon his back as a reminder. Had he been treated sooner Philip, the royal physician, believed he could have helped it heal without such an incident. His other sicknesses and injuries were treated the same, once again proving that he cared more for others than he did for himself, which pained Alexander. There were so many that wished to see Hephaestion fall, yet here he was, protecting them when they did not even know.

"You must see Philip. I will not lose you," Alexander vowed. He reached out again and wiped hair away from Hephaestion's temple. Hephaestion did not seem to respond, but instead sat silently, as if he did not care either way what Alexander did to him. Just as Alexander was beginning to think this he turned his head though and faintly smiled. It seemed to drain the last of his energy, this faint gesture, and he then reached up and placed his hand over Alexander's. He squeezed Alexander's hand softly, then pushed himself out of his chair. Alexander remained and watched Hephaestion pick up his cup, which still held plenty of water.

"Where are you going?"

"I said I would rummage for wild staples with Cassander and some of his men. Ptolemy might show himself as well, but you can not be sure with him." As Alexander frowned at him Hephaestion let out a soft breath of air. He knew well enough that it was not the best idea, especially if he were growing weak with sickness. Hephaestion saw Alexander's concern, but was ready to reassure him that he would in fact be fine. "We will only be gone for an hour, and likely no longer. Cassander tires easily when searching for something as trivial as food, especially if he does not have to fight over the food."

"There are others that could go," Alexander countered. Something told him, deep within his chest, that Hephaestion was not in the condition to leave. He looked tired, so very tired, as if at any moment he would fall asleep. Alexander stood and went to his side, wrapping his arms around him. For the first time he truly felt how thin Hephaestion was growing; he was hardened muscles over bones it seemed. His beard brushed against the crook of Alexander's neck, and for the first time he actually knew what the thicker hair felt like against his skin. As he drew back Hephaestion placed a quick kiss against his forehead, as a friend alone might do, and it caused Alexander to worry more, although it was meant to calm him. It was a farewell kiss, not one that reassured him that Hephaestion would be coming back soon.

Hephaestion left nonetheless, edging silently out of the tent. Alexander stepped out behind him but did not have the heart to follow him. There was a barrier between the two of them, one which Alexander was responsible for putting up, yet Hephaestion took blame for it as well. As Hephaestion walked away Alexander glanced toward Cassander, who was readying his horse. Cassander and Hephaestion had never been friends, but this was what kept them the closest. They did not trust one another to complete a task alone, without the opposite's opinion, and hence they watched over one another like hawks. Work only was done better when the two fought amongst each other, so it did in fact make sense that the two would go together. Cassander then mounted his horse and made his way across the camp to where Hephaestion was mounting. Cassander had changed as well, but in subtle ways. All along Alexander had known him to be cunning, but now he was too cunning for his own good. When an argument broke out he would side with those closest, yet farthest away, from Alexander. This meant, in short, that he would rather align himself with Roxanne than Hephaestion. The idea was that Roxanne would then turn Alexander against himself, since she was so close to Alexander, if only Cassander instructed her to do so. Hephaestion had caught on long ago, and had already forewarned Alexander. Yet, in growing wiser, he was losing himself to the anger that boiled beneath his skin. He, perhaps like Alexander, was born of hate. While Alexander had learned to love Cassander had not; Cassander hated better than the Furies.

He was not sure if he trusted Cassander to be alone with Hephaestion, but knew that Hephaestion was not worried. They had been alone together before, and never before had it bothered them. If there were one man that Cassander could be trusted with it would be Hephaestion. Beneath his hatred for the blue-eyed general there was respect, and even envy would not allow him to harm Hephaestion. Folding his arms over his chest Alexander watched as Hephaestion mounted his own stead and rode through the rest of the camp. Cassander followed closely at his side, and soon they had gone from sight. What worried him most was not that Hephaestion was with Cassander, or even truly that Hephaestion appeared to be ill, but he feared instead that Hephaestion no longer loved him as he once had. It was still there, a silent love that kept Hephaestion at his side protecting him, but the adoration seemed to be fading. His fault, perhaps, but he still did not want such an outcome. Unable to find something else to do Alexander stepped back into his tent. The very moment he stopped worrying about Hephaestion, nearly an hour later, was when he heard a horse galloping into the camp. Instinctively he rushed out of the tent, and he saw Cassander turn his horse around in a quick circle once more, creating dust, but finally stopping. Immediately Alexander approached, fear and adrenaline coursing through him. Grabbing on to the reins of the horse he jerked it still as Cassander dismounted.

"Where is he," Alexander asked. Cassander took charge of the horse, already knowing Alexander's plan. Alexander mounted the gray gelding and then turned him abruptly back to the road they had entered and left from.

"Not far," Cassander assured him, for the first time answering a question and saying nothing more. "The heat exhausted him, nothing more. I rode ahead, but he is being brought in. It would suit you better to call for Philip immediately, and stay."

"Get the physician," Alexander ordered as he jerked the reins away from Cassander. Cassander did not seem to mind the abrupt force that Alexander used. Had they been in other circumstances he would have minded, but for the moment this was acceptable behavior he supposed. "I don't care if you have to stop him from an amputation, have him in Hephaestion's tent and ready. Go!"

Moments later Hephaestion lay on his bed, still arguing that he was fine. In his mind he had just become hot for a moment, and simply lost consciousness due to the humidity. Once more Alexander forced him back on the bed, and Philip began his examination once more. Cassander, who had called the medic, also had made sure to order water for Hephaestion. As Philip checked his pulse and breathing Alexander tipped a cup of cold water against his lips. Hephaestion drank, spilling some in the process, but Alexander forced him to finish the cup without stopping. This left Hephaestion a bit breathless, and a bit irritated, but Alexander figured he would rather have Hephaestion glare at him for a moment than spend a moment without him. It was a fair trade. When Philip was done looking Hephaestion over sighed, with his eyes but luckily not physically, and glanced in Alexander's general direction. The old man stood, and without saying a word to Hephaestion stepped outside of the tent. Alexander, like a puppy would its master, obediently followed. After Alexander was sure that no others could hear, especially Hephaestion, he turned his full attention to his doctor.

"It is a heavy fever that has caused him to wither so," Philip began. "We both know that he is not eating well, and that what he does eat is not substantial, compared to what his body needs. I told you years ago, when you were but a child, that he would not surpass twenty years. He has surprised me, but the illness he fought so many years ago did in fact harm his body. It took a toll on him my king, and still each new illness takes more from him. His lungs are bothered by the water in the air."

"What must be done," Alexander asked, his lower lip quivering. He was well enough aware that Hephaestion was susceptible to illness. Not but a few days after he'd returned from his time in Athens had he and Alexander wandered out of the palace one night. Exploring, as they always had, Hephaestion had fallen into a cold stream. At the time they had laughed, and Hephaestion had for hours after that remained at Alexander's side, feeling nothing but joy. However, the next morning he was too cold and stiff to move, and Philip had pronounced his lungs infected from the cold. The sickness was supposed to kill him, and Olympias had told her son to say his goodbye. Alexander did not, and for it he bargained with the gods, and they were tempted enough to give Hephaestion his life. The illness left, but the marks upon his lungs did not. Each sickness after he grew weaker, then would be fine until the next ailment stuck. Yet with each diagnosis, and each year, Philip feared for the general's life. This case was no different, if not more worrisome, for in India they knew so little about their surroundings. Infections spread faster here, claiming more lives, and without proper rest and care Hephaestion would just become another tally on a list of those that had passed on the Indian campaign.

"He must be cool during the day, and warm at sunset. His body will need water throughout the day, at least a bucket full. Force him to drink more if you are able to. Stop drinking the water straight off the fire, still boiling. Make sure his water is either cool, or at the most the temperature of the air, but stick with cool if you are able. No more grain either, just broth and liquid for the time being. Restrict him from all activity, and remember Alexander, I cannot guarantee his health."

"He faired so well in Babylon," Alexander noted. It was the dry air that kept them all well. Babylon was almost like Macedonia, not far off in temperature, so they had been used to it. Here it rained for days, then was dark for the rest, and on a rare occasion one would see the sun. Alexander nodded to Philip, who walked away to tend to others, and then silently stepped back into the tent. As he did Hephaestion turned his head, watching Alexander approach, and slowly began to frown. He did not wish for Alexander to see his pain and tightened his face, his lips forming a thin line insignificant of his feelings, and waited for his lover to sit. Alexander did so, taking Hephaestion's hand, and he then kissed his knuckles.

"It is fate," Hephaestion whispered, "for me to go first."

"No," Alexander disagreed immediately. He reached out and ran his hand over Hephaestion's cheek. "It is nothing more than a fever Hephaestion. There is no harm in having a fever. You must but rest; that is all."

"Then why do you look so sad," Hephaestion asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Even though he felt tired, weak, he tried to keep Alexander from knowing how much pain he was in. With each breath it ached, but he needed to ignore it, at least for now. He wound his hand tighter with Alexander's, locking their fingers together, and then rested his head against his pillow. "You know that I hate it when you look sad. It hurts me more to see you in pain than to feel my own."

"Hephaestion, you are too brave," Alexander replied. "For once I would like for you to remember that you are allowed to be ill, that you can tell me if you are. I was a fool to bring us here, to India, but I want it so badly that I cannot turn back."

"You're stubborn," he grinned. Then, more seriously, he said, "No matter where we are Alexander we are in the right place. I know what India means to you. When it is all conquered you have said you'll turn back and conquer her once over again, as you would do with your entire empire. Soon we'll fall off the edge of the map Alexander, but for you your men would do so without question. They love you Alexander, more than you can know, and they need you. They need you to be strong."

"You make me strong."

"Which is why I said nothing," the other admitted, a bit of sorrow showing in his cerulean eyes. "Had you begun to worry about me you would not be able to focus on your other obligations."

"You are my only obligation," Alexander assured him. Not much more was said. Hephaestion grew weaker and weaker by the moment, and after a few moments of resting his eyes he was sleeping soundly. Alexander knew well enough that it was the only sleep he's had in days. Between watching over Alexander, his troops, other troops, and other general affairs of the campaign, he'd forgotten that he needed to sleep. Sure enough it had taken its toll on him. Alexander continued to watch over him, but soon enough he heard approaching footfalls. Glancing over he saw Cassander at the tent's entry, waiting patiently to be told to enter. Alexander silently waved him in with a nod, and Cassander entered. Cassander knew well enough that Hephaestion needed rest and made sure to remain completely silent.

"Will he be alright," asked Cassander. He truly cared as well, which was odd for him. Yet at the same time he had been there when Hephaestion had toppled to the ground, a heap of undeniable beauty, but also of complete self-unawareness. Alexander nodded and as he did so Cassander made himself comfortable in a chair. He continued to glance around the tent, as if he were a thief scoping out his prize. Yet soon his eyes returned to Hephaestion and he let out a breath.

"He works too hard," he added. Again Alexander merely nodded, not one for words when he was so concerned about his love. It was understandable though, even if Cassander would have rather had Alexander speak to him. They'd grown apart in these years, true enough, but at times he still wished they could be friends. In truth he was a general, and Alexander a king; beyond such titles there was less a friendship. Cassander reached up, placing a hand to his temple, and then sat in complete silence. Until Alexander dismissed him he would remain, largely in part to the fact that there was nothing else to do in India.

"He was not born unto this," Alexander whispered after a long stretch of silence had passed them. At first Cassander was unsure if he had truly heard such words, but he knew that he had. Turning his eyes to Alexander he stared at him, wanting more than just the meager statement. Soon he went on, though the grief remained in his voice. "You were born to kill Cassander, as was I. He was not meant to trek across the world with us. Had he never come back from Athens he would now be a great philosopher, teaching your bastard brothers, and perhaps my own."

"No," Cassander contradicted. "Are you so injudicious to truly believe that? Had Hephaestion remained in Athens yes, he could have been a wonderful philosopher. It was what Aristotle had always wanted from him, true enough, but you forget something Alexander. He loves you, he did before he went to Athens, and he loves you even now. His father would only be able to keep him in Athens for so long, and then one day he would wind up at the palace doorstep, come all the way home by way of foot. The same goes for if you would have told him to remain, yet you have not the heart to do, but that is beside the example. He would have followed, using any means he could. For after all, how can you refuse a foot soldier? He'd have come Alexander, no matter what, and never would you deny him."

"I cannot go on without him."

"He already should be ashes," the other said. Alexander instantly, shocked, stared at him, his mouth a bit agape. Cassander shrugged, not worried in the slightest about insulting Hephaestion, or Alexander, in such a way. "Did Philip not say long ago that he would not see his twentieth year? He went on though, much to your pleasure, and his own. Perhaps once again he will be fine. If not, well, then you must say goodbye and be glad to have had him for the time that you did."

After saying this Cassander stood, leaving the room in the same silence that he had entered. Alexander listened to him as he left but did not avert his eyes from Hephaestion. Sooner or later he would wake, and he needed to be there for him when he did. Slowly midday began to wan into dusk, and just as the sun was setting on the horizon Hephaestion twitched in his sleep, the most movement he'd made in hours. Alexander reached out, taking his hand, and kissed his knuckles, a sign of affection that Hephaestion had always appreciated. Hephaestion's eyelids twitched as Alexander did this, and unhurriedly his eyelids opened, revealing his bloodshot, fevered eyes. He let out a short breath, his shredding lips burning, and tried to form a confident smile for Alexander.

"Drink some water," Alexander said. He released Hephaestion's hand for a moment and reached for the cool water that sat on the table. He lifted it then to Hephaestion's lips, taking Hephaestion's hand back into his free hand. He held him tightly as Hephaestion arched up, bending his stiff neck awkwardly, so that he would better be able to drink. Every move pained him, whether he wanted to show it or not. Alexander waited for him to finish the water, which Hephaestion did without much of a struggle, before he fell back against the pillows. Again he drew in a few short breaths, then released them before glancing around the room. Alexander felt the warmth of his forehead, which was perhaps a bit better than it had been, and then rose. After finding a dry cloth he picked it up, placing it in the cool basin of water that had been left for Hephaestion, and then wrung it out. Sitting back down he wiped the cloth over Hephaestion's face, and as always Hephaestion was all too proud to have Alexander tend to him so. He reached up to still Alexander's hand, but his attempt failed. Alexander ignored him and went on, then lifted the cloth. Once more he returned to the basin, repeating the previous process. He next dripped water onto Hephaestion's lips and with the tip of his forefinger tried to get the valley-like cracks to soak in the moisture. Then, for no real reason at all, he ran his hand over Hephaestion's cheek. He felt the coarse hair beneath his fingers, so different from the hair which fell against Hephaestion's shoulders. There were a few hairs that did not match, about ten to be precise; instead of a deep brown these hairs were not gray, but silver. He'd said nothing to Hephaestion about this change before, and had not truly noticed it in the beginning. Now it was as if he'd never seen him without the neatly trimmed hair.

"You haven't looked at me like this in months," Hephaestion announced serenely. Alexander lifted his gaze, his eyes giving away his regret, and made the attempt to say something. However he said nothing, and Hephaestion then reached up, placing a cold hand against Alexander's cheek. "There is nothing to look so repentant over. I hate this, being cared for by you, when there are so many others that need you attention."

"Only you need my attention," Alexander proclaimed. Hephaestion did not seem satisfied with his answer. It was not in his character to be the one that was waited on hand and foot. He hated it; he wanted others attended to. "Tomorrow I will attend to other matters, if you insist. But for now I will remain here. Would you like more water? Are you hungry? Fresh broth has been made for you; it is yours when you ask for it, the broth. There is vegetable as well as chicken broth, whatever you wish. I am afraid there is no fruit juice though, no tea, and you're not to be drinking wine."

"I am better now." He added, "I am always better when you are near."

"I received a letter from Barsine yesterday," Alexander said, not knowing precisely why the information was important. It seemed to draw Hephaestion's attention though, which was well enough. He wanted to see him eat, and soon. Disgusting grain had ruined him. It was about time he had chicken broth, even if they had to kill every last chicken in the entire supply line. He went on, "She says that the boy grows. She writes that he has my demeanor, yet his eyes are blue like the oceans, like your own. His hair is yours as well."

"Your mother has passed through you," Hephaestion replied doubtfully. "No one child can have two blood fathers. He is your blood Alexander, not mine. Despite what you advised I never found myself in her bed. I do not think that I shall have sons Alexander, I fear the time for that has passed."

"You will," he assured him, squeezing his hand in his own. "You will have sons Hephaestion, soon. We will both have sons, when this is all through with, and they will grow together. While we grow old they will take over the empire, and then we'll give it all to them when we ourselves are old and frail. I'll even bring my mother to Babylon when this is through with. We'll hold our center there, and Barsine and the boy…my son…he will grow up as if he were my own. Yes, he is mine."

"I never said that he was not," Hephaestion agreed. Alexander had wed Barsine, yet many were unsure of the match. It was said throughout the Macedonian ranks that she knew how to love a man, but loved men. When she conceived no one truly believed that it was Alexander's child, apart from Alexander at first, but merely out of pride. As soon as Hephaestion saw the child he saw his father in him, in character.

"She wrote to me as well." Already they both knew of whom Alexander was speaking. He would not refer to her as Olympias, and he would not call her mother unless in her presence, which he'd not been in for years. Hephaestion tucked his head into the furs again, in an attempt to warm himself, and stared up at Alexander. Alexander continued to play with their entwined fingers, secretly feeling guilty that it took Hephaestion being ill before he would do such a simple, yet loving, gesture. "Things are well in Pella, unchanged really. However she is still unhappy. I cannot understand her Hephaestion; what have I not given her? I give her a palace, everything that she ever asks for. I promised to bring her to Babylon, just not now."

"She is your mother, Alexander," Hephaestion reminded him. Alexander would always forget this. He looked at her now, now that he was away from her, as if she were a Harpy of sorts. Yes, she'd raised him in an abstract manner, which may have but was likely not good for Alexander, but she'd raised him. She'd protected him for so many years. Most of all, she had loved him, even if her actions and words did not always seem to suggest such. "All that she could ever want from you is your love, which you are so afraid to give to her. I cannot blame you, for I was there as well, but believe me when I tell you that Olympias loves you. You have no concept of what it is like to love someone only to have them look away from you."

"And you do," Alexander asked, before he could stop himself. Hephaestion bit his lower lip, glancing away, and Alexander then realized the mistake that he had made. Hephaestion did know such a feeling; he knew it each night that he took Bagoas into his bed. Alexander swallowed hard. "Hephaestion, you know that no other could ever mean anything to me, not in the slightest."

"I have no reason to argue such," Hephaestion said after a long pause. He then pushed himself up in his bed and looked around his tent once more. Suddenly they had run out of things to say to one another. Alexander, not knowing precisely what to do, rose and went to get Hephaestion broth. When he returned Hephaestion was asleep once more.

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A/N: Hey, thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed! Drop me a comment, I would really like to know what you think of this so far. In the next chapter Hephaestion will recover from his illness, and things will continue to get more interesting. However, I'm not going to ruin it for you just yet!


	2. Recovery

**Title**: "Missing"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 2 of ?, "Recovery"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion, others (don't want to ruin it.)

**Summary**: In the midst of a grand campaign Hephaestion becomes ill, and is then taken prisoner by a band of Indian rebels just after recovering. The experience will change him, Alexander, and many others.

**Warnings**: Violence, sexual content, strong language, the usual.

**A/N**: To begin, in my opinion Cassander was indeed part of the campaigns in the East. Also, this is not historically accurate, for there is no account of Hephaestion being taken prisoner. However, it is purely for entertainment value, and I own nothing apart from my own words.

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It took all of his energy to focus on what was before him, as it always did when he worried about Hephaestion. Sighing he brushed another errant strand of hair away from his damp forehead and glanced down at the documents before him. There was so much left to be done in Babylon, yet here he was, dictating orders that would have to stretch thousands of miles. Hesitating he lifted his pen, and then scrawled his name across the parchment. With that he had taken care of a tax increase, a very minor one, yet an increase that would only affect those that could afford it. Simpletons, bakers and farmers for the most part, would not be hampered by this at all. In fact, they may not even know of its existence. As the ink began to dry he pushed the document away and moved on to the next. Before giving it too much attention he glanced up, able to see Hephaestion's tent from his seat. Creatively he'd moved his own tent so that with the draws open he had a diagonal view of Hephaestion's own, which at the moment was dark and silent. Slowly he laid the pen down and watched as Philip entered Hephaestion's tent, broth in hand. No more than five minutes later did he leave, and Alexander noted that all must be well. Not all of the broth had been finished, but it was better than nothing he supposed. Sometimes he felt that Hephaestion was a hypocrite for calling him stubborn. He was the stubborn one.

For another hour he worked, glancing up from time to time to see if anything had changed with Hephaestion. After reading over and signing what he needed to he rose from his chair, gratefully dropping the pen down. He first washed his face, and then patted it dry with a cloth. For a moment he studied himself. Yes, he too looked terrible. The business of the day was now complete, and more than ever he wanted to see Hephaestion. He picked up a thin robe, throwing it over his bare chest, and stepped out into the cool night. It was a rather relaxing temperature, but he remembered Philip's warning. Hephaestion was to be kept cool in the day and warm in the night. Hence, when he entered Hephaestion's tent, he shook his head. Hearing the approaching footfalls Hephaestion turned his head, eyes still red and watering, and eyed Alexander. The king said nothing though, merely came closer, as he lifted the thick blanket and placed it once more over Hephaestion's chest. Only then did he draw a chair closer and sit.

"It is not so cold out," Hephaestion assured him, pushing the blanket away again with both hands. Yes, he was the stubborn one. Alexander sighed, leaned forward, and again placed the blanket over Hephaestion. Before Hephaestion could reject the blankets again he stilled him, placing his hands over Hephaestion's. Stopping, Hephaestion settled back against the bed, and stared at Alexander. Still he refused to think that he was so ill.

"Keep it on for me," Alexander asked of him. He then released one of Hephaestion's hands and placed it against his forehead. Still he was warm, yet the fever was indeed lessening. This eased him, for once it began to get better it rarely took another turn for the worse. Reassuringly he smiled down at Hephaestion before placing a kiss against his forehead. Next he ran a hand through Hephaestion's hair, once again knowing how different his hair was now.

"What can I do," Alexander asked after Hephaestion coughed. Hephaestion shook his head, and then coughed again, covering his mouth each time. Alexander stood once more and went for the damp cloth in the basin. Judging by the way in which it hung over the side of the basin it had not been placed there, but rather tossed. As he wrung the cloth out he peered over his shoulder at Hephaestion, who immediately looked away, showing his guilt. Alexander brought the cloth over and wiped Hephaestion's lips again, hoping that it would soothe him a bit. He then gently covered his forehead with the folded cloth and placed his hand against Hephaestion's neck. At least he was the same temperature throughout, and it was lessening.

"Divine," Hephaestion whispered. Alexander was not sure what this meant, and it must have shown on his face. Hephaestion went on though, his voice near trembling, even though he still tried to disguise it. "I never answered, in Babylon."

"Tell me how bad it is," he pleaded, placing a hand against Hephaestion's cheek. "You only speak like this when you're afraid, or worried about something. Hephaestion, do not protect me. Tell me how you are feeling."

"I feel better Alexander," was his repeated answer. "It is a fever, just like any other. You know how they feel. I swear Alexander, I will be up by tomorrow, as if I never took ill. I'm strong."

"I don't want you to be strong," Alexander cried, tears finally burning his eyes until they fell, streaking paths of worry down his cheeks. "I want you to be honest with me, like you always are. You are a great man Hephaestion, and always you try to shield me from the despair of this world. I know you Hephaestion, you were there when I knew nothing but despair and loneliness, and you changed it all. You taught me how to love, and to trust, and always you've kept the past at bay. Hephaestion, please, shield me from it no longer. I worry for you the more when you act as if you are fine when we all know that you are not. In battle be strong, but not here, not now."

"Alexander," a voice interrupted. Hephaestion turned his head and saw Ptolemy standing just outside of the tent. He offered him a slight smile, but nothing more. There was merely a silent understanding between them. Even in the middle of the night there was business that Alexander would have to tend to, even though now was not the time. Irritated he glanced over his shoulder at Ptolemy, who immediately explained the interruption. "There was a large fight amongst men in the ranks, one which needs your advice and reprimand."

"Give me a moment," Alexander ordered. Ptolemy nodded and stepped away from the tent, understanding that Alexander had other things on his mind. He himself had cursed the angered men to Hades. As he left Alexander turned his attention back to Hephaestion, his cerulean eyes glittering. Hephaestion reached up and gently wiped Alexander's tears away with his thumb. It was then that Alexander whispered, "I will be back shortly, but you need not wait for me."

"You need your own sleep," Hephaestion warned him. He then slowly nodded as Alexander rose. Yet before the king left he knelt down and brushed his lips gently against Hephaestion's. How long had it been since they had touched so intimately? Alexander cared not, and nor did Hephaestion, for they both knew that it had been for too long. As he left Hephaestion offered him a farewell, "Goodnight, my Achilles, my Alexander."

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As the sun rose over the horizon Hephaestion wrapped his arms over his chest and continued to stare out at the world. How things had changed, but still remained the same. Still his body shook a bit, but he knew that it would better as the humidity set in. Drawing a breath, he then glanced to his left, and he soon spotted Cassander. Cassander was already ready for the day, and Hephaestion had a feeling that he had been for some time. He drew in another breath, remembering that just yesterday he had been almost too ill to breathe. In silence he moved a bit closer to his tent, where a wicker chair had been conveniently left. He sat, drawing his fur robe tighter around himself, and picked up a cup of water. He sipped it, knowing that he still had to be careful. It tasted well enough and he took a gulp before setting it down once more. It was still a beautiful day, compared to yesterday, even if Alexander did not want him out of bed just yet. When he thought of Alexander he felt lonely for a moment, but it passed as it always did. In the process Cassander had sighted Hephaestion, alone, and was now walking toward him.

"If Alexander knew you were out of bed," Cassander said as he comfortably sat upon a large log, "he would have a fit. I believe that the two of you are going to be the end of one another. He worries over you, and here you are pushing him even further. However, when he gets sick the roles immediately switch."

"Has he been speaking with the rest of the Companions this morning," Hephaestion asked. He glanced over at Cassander, and for the first time noticed how different, yet alike, they were in appearance. Shortly after he turned his head away and waited for Cassander to respond. Cassander, as always, took his time before giving his answer.

"Alexander has been preparing to move camp again, if that is what you mean. Just as I presume you advised him to do, to continue with his plans. He wants us out of the area, and for many reasons. He told us that he wants to relieve the air, to help better the sicknesses of all. Few worry that the barbarians of these lands climb into the trees and can spot us in the night. I've seen nothing of the sort, but still, it would be wise to move the camp until at least we know where these other rebel tribes are. However, we all know what he is doing. Alexander wants to find you better air, dry air, so that you'll start recovering."

"I am fine," Hephaestion assured him. He did not need to prove it, just had to believe it himself. Yet just after he spoke the words his stomach turned, making a loud noise, and he remembered that he was growing hungry. He did not want more broth though. He'd had a cup in the middle of the night, when Philip had absolutely insisted that he drink it. The poor physician never seemed to sleep. Cassander laughed, something Cassander had not heard him do in years, and then shook his head.

"You sound well enough."

"Cassander," a voice interrupted. Both men, a bit startled, peered to their left. Alexander looked tired already, and Hephaestion feared that he truly had been up before dawn, ordering people about. At least it would give the bored something to do though. Alexander seemed to forget about Cassander though, and instead stared at Hephaestion. He crossed his own arms over his chest, instead of feeling cold, he felt concern for Hephaestion. Although he seemed a bit better, some of his strength back, he did not need to be up and about yet. Today, as the camp was moved, Hephaestion would need his rest. Already he'd prepared arguments for Hephaestion, who would certainly claim that he should be treated no differently than any other man. Well, he was a general, and with that came certain gifts. One of these gifts officially was a ride in a covered wagon when ill.

"Are your men preparing," Alexander asked Cassander, who found no reason to leave at first. Cassander nodded and then stood, only now ready to depart, knowing that Alexander and Hephaestion were going to have one of their 'talks'. He glanced to Hephaestion and wished him better health, then stepped away. It freed up the log, and Alexander stepped past Hephaestion and sat. He reached over, taking Hephaestion's hand, and looked up at him again. "You should be resting. It is too soon for you to be exhausting yourself once more."

"Alexander, I am better, I swear it. There is plenty that must be done; let me go on as I would. All around the camp there are ill men, but they are required to work. I am no different."

"But you are, Hephaestion."

"What are you going to tell them," he asked quietly. "Are you going to tell them all that you and I, when younger, used to be lovers? I fear that will not be an answer they are going to accept. Even Bagoas has the freedom to walk, and he's been in your bed on many occasions."

"Are we no longer lovers," Alexander asked, pain welling behind his eyes, seeping through his body. He did not even hear the jab that Hephaestion had made upon Bagoas. Even had he there was nothing he could say to Hephaestion to change his mind about him, this he knew already. What bothered him was this; how could Hephaestion make it sound as if they no longer loved one another? He loved him, loved him more than he did anything. Did Hephaestion really believe that such had changed so? It was absurd.

"You are my king," Hephaestion answered. "I am your general. Apart from that I fear we have not been much in the past months. I am not your confidant as I used to be; your head rests on other pillows. Perhaps there has been too much between us."

"I cannot stand it when you speak like this."

"You mean when I speak the truth," he taunted absent-mindedly. He then remembered who he was, and what he was saying. Yes, he loved Alexander, but at least he was admitting the changes between them. Still, he needed to lessen the impact upon Alexander. "Alexander, I know that you care for me, and I have never stopped loving you, but things are different now. It was you, it was me, it was this campaign, but sooner or later we're going to have to face the truth. You can't love me anymore Alexander, not in the way you once did. You have a wife, a lover, an army, an empire…they all require your attention far more than I can. Without an army you'll have no empire, without a wife no heirs."

"And without you I am nothing," Alexander finished.

"You'll only be without me in one aspect."

"I can't have you if I don't have all of you," Alexander replied, anger soothing the pain in his voice. Hephaestion did not look at him as he stood, stomping away angrily. Only when he was close to out of sight did Hephaestion look over. It hurt him more than Alexander realized, to know that what he had just said cut Alexander. Yet he then glanced down at his hands and stretched them out. They shook slightly and he then folded them together again before coughing. In truth, he wanted Alexander to hate him. He wanted him to wish that he were dead even, for if something should happen to him then all would be well. His body ached, screamed at him even. Forcing his breath to still he stared out at the horizon. For some time he sat before he heard approaching footsteps, and as Cassander approached Hephaestion did not move in the slightest. He could not explain why Cassander had decided that today would be the day to renew their friendship, but it did not matter. As much as Hephaestion wanted to be independent it did not mean that he wished to be alone.

"They say that the greatest nations are supported by those who hold up her weakest," Cassander said as he sat down once more. For a moment he said nothing more, just sat next to Hephaestion staring at nothing. However he was sure that Hephaestion saw more than just a horizon, one which Cassander swore he saw each and every day. Only after a battle would he notice nature, and this nature was covered in blood and guts, nothing else. "You fight because your gods wish you to. How bored do you think the gods would be if you and Alexander no longer fought, and were always as you were in youth?"

"Alexander listens to no gods," Hephaestion replied. In truth Alexander would not listen to a god if the very deity were standing before him. It was bred into his character; such qualities had been possessed by his father and mother, hence the blood was twice as strong in him.

"He only cares for you," Cassander assured Hephaestion, knowing first hand how true such was. Alexander cared for him, perhaps more than Hephaestion could recognize anymore. Still Cassander could not blame him, for how could he when he knew that Alexander still found himself in bed with Bagoas from time to time. Hephaestion was strong, yes, but didn't need to be trampled because of such. "For the first time I can see where he calls you stubborn, and I am beginning to agree with him. By Zeus, you are cursed and blessed all the same. Without one you would not be able to have the other. How unfair life is to the two of you."

"Perhaps if I were like you I would be better," Hephaestion countered. "If I shielded my pains, my pleasures even, then I would be just as you are Cassander. No one would see my frustrations, and perhaps nothing would crawl under my skin, but then I would not be living. Instead I tell him that he cannot protect me, must not protect me, for it only shall hurt him in the end."

"And what have you done to him for all this time," Cassander asked. "Have you not protected him? Who is it, I wonder, that fell in battle for him at Gaugamela, because I cannot recall. I remember also a man that stood before him, and he too was named Alexander. There are two gods, gifted the status in Alexandria. Was it not you, Hephaestion, who brought Alexander back to his senses in Scamander? You're right, he protects you, but you've done the same for him all these years."

"You give me too much credit," the other said softly. He wrung his hands together once more, making sure that his shaking was not yet noticeable. Blinking he went on, still wondering what hid beyond the horizon. "If Alexander were not discreetly restrained from time to time, like in Gaugamela and Scamander, then there would be no empire, for there would be no Alexander. He is negligent at times, inane even at others, but overall he is a man to be challenged. We both know what he has done for Macedonia. Alexander has taken men whose grandfathers were goat herders and each he has given gold, land, and glory. I can take no credit in that, and none of us will. In the end they'll write Alexander's name in books, not ours. We won't be remembered, not as you think perhaps we shall be."

"Then I had better do something reckless."

"It is not that I yearn to go against him," Hephaestion assured him. "I just want him to understand that someday he will have to be without me. I am his Patroclaus, and for such a title, which I am grateful for, I must die first. Fate wrote the rule so long ago that it cannot be broken."

"Tell me what you think is wrong. Please Hephaestion; do not think that I am as naïve as Alexander is. I see how you sit, how your eyes wish to close, and I see how you try to keep your hands from trembling as fever overtakes you. Hephaestion, I already know that you are ill. Everyone knows by now, but just tell me why it is you worry so much about Alexander. Why not let him fear for you as you do constantly for him?"

"In confidence?"

"I am not the serpent that you think I am Hephaestion," he answered, which was his way of assuring Hephaestion that he would not repeat these words. He would not either. If there were one thing to trust about Cassander it was his word, or his lack there of it. He knew where to keep his mouth shut and where to open it. In this case he would say nothing if Hephaestion asked him not to. Silently he watched him, waiting for him to go on. Finally, as if the realization that he needed to get it off his chest sunk in, he spoke.

"I worry for him," Hephaestion explained, "without me. However, more than anything, I do not wish to disappoint him. You see him when I am sick Cassander, how frayed around the edges he becomes. If something were to happen to me, something terrible, I do not know what he would do. He would fall apart, I fear. Then what use will it have been? I can hear the people now, oh how they would speak, weaving tales of the king that conquered the world only to lose it all in the end. Not only did he lose it, but because his lover was frail and died, failing him when he promised that he would never do such a thing."

"You are not dying. I have seen dying men, and you are not one of them. Sickness cannot let Alexander down, Hephaestion. Have you too forgotten how mortal you truly are?"

"I just worry."

"Do not be completely honest with him if it suits you," Cassander finally said. "One way or another, whether it is now or in the future, something is going to happen. Either you, or he, may become ill, or die, perhaps in the end one of you will be a blind cripple. It does not matter though, does it? Don' you two love one another now? Is that not enough."

"Alexander loves many."

"Not as he loves you," disagreed Cassander. He did not feel like explaining it to Hephaestion once more. He already knew that Alexander loved him, but was just trying to stop him from loving him. This way it would protect Alexander, and it would protect him, for he would not feel as if he had let Alexander down. Should he die, Alexander would be alone, yet Hephaestion would have at least let him be alone for his last months. Notwithstanding Cassander could care less about such a foolish plan, for all would lose regardless of the outcome. Hephaestion would not die, could not die from just a sickness, and deep down Cassander believed this. It would take far more to kill Hephaestion Amyntor. Cassander said nothing more, merely walked away from Hephaestion, leaving him to his thoughts. Hephaestion did not move for some time, but eventually stood and entered his tent. Slowly he began packing, and when he was done he drug his things to the ox-drawn flat bed wagon that would carry it to their new settlements. Just as he was about finished a hand grabbed a bag from him. Alexander lifted the bag and then set it in the wagon, saying nothing for a silent minute.

"There is a covered wagon up ahead. I expect that you're not going to make this too difficult," Alexander retorted, bitterness in his voice. Hephaestion stood motionless, unsure of what to do or say. The bitterness in Alexander's voice was enough to stop him from breathing. Drawing in a breath he shook his head, then picked up his very last bag. He set it down in the open wagon and then began to walk away, turning his back to Alexander. Alexander would not give up so easily and continued to follow him, screaming at him through clenched teeth all the while. "Hephaestion! Hephaestion stop being so damned stubborn and for once do something for you!"

"Alexander I'm not a eunuch, and I'm not your wife. Perhaps I was sick, yes, but I am fine now. I will walk if I want, just like all others have to. Do you think I'm the only one in the world that is ill?"

"I think you're the only one that causes me to care," Alexander answered. At last Hephaestion spun around and stopped, shoving Alexander away from him with an uneasy shove. Had he been feeling better he would have knocked Alexander down with such a hit, but today could not. Lunging forward Alexander grabbed his wrist and pushed him into his own tent –for Alexander had his own pages that would disassemble it later. Hephaestion, weak, fell back against a pole as Alexander let him go. Alexander pulled the flap of the tent shut and then approached, still fuming with the prospects that Hephaestion no longer loved him, and now that he was so stubborn that he was going to kill himself without knowing it. As he approached Hephaestion put up a hand to shield himself, but Alexander forced his hand away before coming just inches away from his face. Lips almost touching Alexander spoke, even though feeling Hephaestion's body so close to his own was already causing him to grow hard. He tried to push the thought away though, knowing that it was not something he should be concerning himself with.

"You will do as I say," Alexander ordered. "If you don't want to do it as Hephaestion then you shall do it as General Hephaestion. Do you understand me?"

"No," Hephaestion finally said, breaking away from Alexander. "No I don't understand you anymore Alexander. When we were boys you said you wanted to conquer Persia, and we did! Darius is dead and all of the land is yours. Your new people worship you, just as they do in Egypt where you are worshipped as a god. Then you wanted to go on, and we have, we have followed you to the ends of the world where all men from the west are dying. No, I don't understand what happened to the boy I knew! If this is what you want, these jungles, then so be it. I am here with you, the only one completely loyal to you, so that they can be yours. Never have I asked you for anything Alexander, never, and I want but one thing. I want your heart, and if I had it you would give me my independence."

"Damn you Hephaestion," Alexander said as he shoved Hephaestion's back against the pole once more, one hand grabbing his wrist, the other pushing against his chest to keep him in place. "I have told you a thousand times over that I do not love Bagoas, nor Roxanne for the matter, or any other damnable creature in the world! Aphrodite could lay wet before me and I would not take her, for I love you!"

"You show your love then like your mother and your father, enveloped in hatred," Hephaestion countered.

"Do you think I touch him like this," Alexander asked, running the palm of his hand over Hephaestion's cheek. His palm traced over his neck, his shoulder, pushing away the robe that covered his bare chest. Slowly his hand ran down Hephaestion's chest, lightly curving over each muscle, before reaching the waistband of his silk trousers. As he whispered his next words his fingers pulled the waistband away so that his hand could then sail into hidden treasures. "Do you think that I want him like I want you? There is nothing about him that I desire Hephaestion, nothing makes me want him as I do you. Here, feel, does this feel like I am disgusted with you Hephaestion?"

"No," Hephaestion responded, his voice catching in the back of his throat as he spoke. All the while Alexander forced Hephaestion's hand against him so that Hephaestion could feel for himself how much Alexander desired him.

"There is only you," Alexander assured him before pulling away from Hephaestion. He then stormed away, out of the tent, and when the next Hephaestion stepped out there were guards waiting for him. Angered, yet still deeply concerned (though it did not show), Alexander grabbed Hephaestion's forearm and drew him closer. Forcefully he pushed him into the covered wagon, which already was prepared for Hephaestion, including blankets, pillows, cold water, and broth. Hephaestion would have protested, had the heat not cause his thoughts to swim in his head. As he felt dizzy he lay back, yet still could hear Alexander giving orders.

"Watch him," Alexander ordered the ten guards that surrounded the caravan. Hephaestion had no doubt that these guards were rested, and that if need be they would force him inside of the caravan. This was going to be a horrid journey. "I don't care what he says, or how much he complains, do not let him walk. Don't let him out of your sight. Should he have to piss tell him to piss out the back."

Hephaestion would have laughed, for it was a silly idea. He frowned though when he realized that Alexander meant it. Sighing he lay back and listened as Alexander went away, once again attending to his own business. Hephaestion reached up to feel his head, just to make sure that all was well. Shortly after, despite wanting to remain awake, he fell asleep. It was only then that the rest of the world seemed to fall away, and only then there was only Hephaestion. Slowly the train began to move, and once again Alexander's great army marched on, except this time Hephaestion did not walk.

Hours passed and Hephaestion did not wake once. The temperature rose, then sunk down, and then rose once more until the men that did walk panted. They could not help but do so, for sweat dripped from their bodies and onto the disgustingly moist earth beneath their feet. Sighing, Alexander reached forward and pressed a hand to Bucephalus' neck. The horse indeed was hot as well, yet still the old stud was taking the heat better than the men. All the while Alexander found his thoughts only on Hephaestion, and he knew that earlier in the morning he had been wrong. He had been wrong to treat him as he did, to force him about as if he were an object and not a man, even if at the time Hephaestion may have deserved such treatment. Once again he felt his breath leave him and he reached to his forehead, wiping sweat away from his face. Just as he did so Cassander nudged his horse forward so that he then was riding stride by stride next to Alexander. Alexander glanced over, wondering if Cassander's tongue would get the best of him. He believed that any moment Cassander would begin taunting him, yet they remained in silence for some time. Still he could not get Hephaestion out of his mind.

"_To the end of the world," Hephaestion whispered, raising his cup. He then poured the blood red wine onto the ground, leaving but a few sips left in the cup. Throwing his head back he drank the rest of the wine, and slowly turned around, a smile not only upon his face but shining in his cerulean eyes. Alexander eyed him, smiling as well. No matter what he did Hephaestion was perfect, and this was no different. "There, a sacrifice to the gods in your favor Alexander. Most oracles believe that if you drink with the gods they will drink with you. Hence, I have perfected your campaign."_

"_And wasted plenty of my wine," Alexander teased playfully. Hephaestion approached, wrapping his arms around Alexander's bare body, and enveloped him with love. First he kissed him lightly, then with more passion. They were in plain view, standing on the balcony in Persia, and neither cared. Let the world see them in the nude, embracing one another, loving one another. _

"_There is but one problem," Hephaestion said as he drew Alexander to the bed. "You are already a god, my love. How can I ask gods to protect one of their own?"_

Alexander heard the sound of Cassander coughing next to him, and he turned his head. Pulled from his memory he snarled at the other for a moment, and then looked ahead. There was a moment shared between them, and then Cassander decided that he would speak frankly with his friend. He knew that Alexander needed him too much to replace him, so should he become too angered Cassander would just step away. However, that would be more fun, to cause Alexander to lose his mind. Yet in the heat Cassander feared that they would all lose their minds.

"Your sign is the eagle," Cassander stated. He glanced over at Alexander as he maneuvered his horse around a fallen tangle of vines. Looking away he went on. He didn't wish to see the reaction that Alexander gave as he went on. In the past few days he'd become his own philosopher. "Hephaestion is your mortal gift from the gods Alexander; he is your true eagle. Yet I notice that unlike the bird that soars into war with you, and then leaves, Hephaestion soars and is then set away in a cage. He is free Alexander, and he chooses to be with you, but he will only be friendly to his captor for so long. Eventually you're going to have to let him go, and know that he'll not leave. Otherwise he'll beat his wings in the cage until he is bloody."

"I don't remember Aristotle saying such," was Alexander's curt reply.

"I made it up," the other admitted. "What would you have me do, say nothing at all? Alexander, listen to me, whatever is going on between you and Hephaestion will cease soon. You love one another," as he said this Alexander appeared indignant. "Am I so wrong?"

"I fear that he may no longer love me. Worst of all, I believe that he may have a viable reason to refuse to reciprocate my feelings. I've wronged him Cassander, many times, and each time he has come back to me. I cannot complain either. I am glad when he returns, and I change my ways, but yet again I slip into the same pattern. Still he worries about Bagoas."

"Then get rid of Bagoas."

"What," Cassander asked, shocked.

"You heard me, get rid of Bagoas. Throw him over the edge of a cliff for all I care, if you love Hephaestion you do not need him. Roxanne, even she Hephaestion sees the validity in, even though none of us like her. Don't look at me like that, Hephaestion lies to protect your heart. He hates her as much as the rest of us do."

"I cannot just get rid of Bagoas. Rumors would surface, and you know as well as I that they would begin to question Hephaestion."

"You assume too much, great King. If you would like, then I will kill Bagoas. I'll do it before a thousand men if you need me to. What will they say then, that I have gone mad? They've said that for years."

"Perhaps, later."

"I can still see the child in you Alexander, the one that was outdone by an Athenian whelp who hated fighting. He still outdoes you in some ways. But let me tell you this, in love you are equally matched Alexander. You both show yourselves in other ways, but both love one another more than you do life."

"I cannot lose him," Alexander said after a long silence grew between them. He did not look at Cassander as he said this, and Cassander said nothing in return. They continued in silence, both thinking of different things, both remembering their youth in Pella. While Alexander thought of wondrous thoughts, mostly involving his time with Hephaestion, Cassander thought of all the times he was not with Hephaestion, or any other for the matter.

"Alexander," Ptolemy interrupted. Alexander wondered if he was going to make this a habit. It seemed than any time he tried to convey his feelings Ptolemy would show up, and immediately he would have to silence himself. Ptolemy seemed distressed though, so perhaps the wait would be alright. Drawing in a breath before he spoke, the general then rattled off his report, which he already knew would cause Alexander to panic.

"The rebels surround the center wagons," Ptolemy stated. Immediately Bucephalus had turned, and Alexander appeared as frightened as Ptolemy feared he would be. Even Cassander seemed concerned for a moment, and it showed in his eyes, but nowhere else. "I am already sending men, and perhaps the scouts were wrong. Alexander….Hephaestion is in the center train."

Meanwhile Hephaestion felt the wagon come to a halt, an abrupt halt, as one of the wheels crashed against debris in the road. Hephaestion reached up and felt his forehead. Again he forced himself to wipe sweat away from his forehead. Slowly he sat up, and instantaneously a hand wrapped around his mouth. He knew he was weak, but he knew that something had gone horribly wrong. Reaching up he went to grab the hand of his attacker. As he did this his assailant pressed a cold blade against his neck. In a split second Hephaestion felt a knee collide with his gut, and he was then shoved forward, causing him to topple out of the wagon. He hit the ground, which even though it was damp still hurt his already weakened body. Grabbing a vine Hephaestion pulled himself forward, kicking his legs, and stood. Around him he noticed that his guard was already detained, for the most part.

"Hephaestion," he heard a Greek call, "do not fight them! You are weak my lord!"

He chose to ignore the warning. Reaching down he picked up a thick, yet broken, tree branch. As a dark skinned man approached him he raised his weapon in defense, but he could not ignore the fact that his opponent held a sword. Still, fighting may prove useful. He lunged forward, this Indian, and attacked with all of his strength, which at the moment rivaled even Hephaestion. The branch did little more than block the sword for a moment, catching it. As the sword caught Hephaestion jumped back, grabbing a small dagger that had been dropped, and when he rose he held it firmly in his grasp. It took a moment, but again he was attacked, yet this time by many. He heard a man behind him, another directly before him, and he was unsure if any approached from the sides. Yet before he knew it, he felt his branch colliding with his back. Letting out a howl of pain he collided with the ground, clenching his teeth and cursing. Again he heard the same warning, to stop trying to fight, but he couldn't. If he was captured he was a threat to Alexander, this he knew, so stubbornly he pushed himself off of the ground again. Just as he was rising he was kicked hard in the groin and again he fell forward. As he turned his head he felt the branch collide against his face, and salty blood then tasted in his mouth. Swallowing he tried to get up again, but instantly he was on the ground once more. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a sword rise, glinting in the sunlight, and he felt his heart stop. So this would be the end…

"No," a voice called out. Slowly the sword lowered and Hephaestion felt hands grab him from all sides, or so it seemed. He was lifted and stood facing a man he knew all too well, a man that at one time had been in the Macedonian ranks. Before he could process a name he was kicked hard in the gut once more, then in the face he was punched, and he felt his nose shift. If it was not broken it would be with another hit. However the assaults stopped, and again the man before him spoke.

"Leave him," Dorganus insisted. Hephaestion recalled what had happened, yes, he remembered now. Had Dorganus not been lost in a flood, or while crossing a river? He could not remember, but knew now that surely he was not dead. Hephaestion felt a man grab his hair and jerk his head back. The sun now pierced his eyes, but still he could see Dorganus advance. "Do you not know how to spot Alexander's favorite? He is the only man with eyes to match the Mediterranean. He will make the perfect prisoner; Alexander will come to us if we have Hephaestion."

"He won't," Hephaestion laughed, blood streaming down his chin. He turned his head to the side and rubbed his lower lip against his right shoulder. For this he immediately was hit. Hephaestion hoped that he would be hit once more, perfectly in the nose, and then it would all be over. "Haven't you heard Dorganus, he beds eunuchs now."

"Hearts do not bed," the other insisted. He took another step forward and punched Hephaestion squarely in the gut. Hephaestion tried not to stumble forward, but did again. Once more he was jerked back, this time sure he'd lost a good chunk of hair in the process, so that he could face Dorganus.

"You and I," he said, "have much to discuss. Or, should I say, I have much to say to you while I beat you into a bloody pulp. Men, pick two to bring with us. The rest die. Make sure that Hephaestion gets to watch. He hates death."

So it was; Hephaestion was held as the first guard was slaughtered, his throat ripped from his neck by a man with metal nails that covered his hand. He felt his breath catch and he was on the verge of retching. In all he watched eight executions, all the same. If he were to close his eyes he immediately would be struck until he opened them again. However, he did not cry out until the last man spoke.

"My lord," he whispered as his executioner came forth, "you must live on. We lose all without you."

His throat was ripped out as he was finishing the last word, causing blood to splash against Hephaestion's face. Only then did he scream, and once more he tried to free himself. It was of no use, and when he was hit again the pain blinded him. The world began to sway, and within a moment he slumped to the ground. It would be easier for the men to carry him this way. The only sign that would be left was the wagon, and those that had been executed. When Ptolemy and his men rode forth Ptolemy searched high and low for Hephaestion, or any sign of him. Nothing….absolutely nothing. It was not until they rode back into Alexander's new camp that he truly began to panic. He dismounted, and as he did Alexander rushed out of his tent. Slowly Ptolemy shook his head, shattering all of Alexander's hopes with one simple gesture.

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A/N: Special thanks to my initial reviewers! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much. If you have not submitted a review, go ahead, it will make your day better…I promise!

XxmorbidloserXx: Thanks, and I hope you like this chapter as well.

Magikphoenix: I am hoping to update at least every other day.

Vania Hepskins: Thanks!

Tribal Shimmy: Your stories are wonderful as well, and I'm not sure if my reviews for them went through the other day!

Bluehaven4220: I would definitely call it insanity. Yes, I am constantly writing. It is one of those passions that you can't get rid of!

Sovereign of Silence3: No, it is not a silly question at all. Alexander and Olympias had a love-hate relationship. I feel that while Olympias loved Alexander, she also wanted him to become ruler so that he could help avenge her. At times this meant that she had to be rather cutthroat, and even tried to turn Alexander against his father. For this I believe they have a love-hate relationship. However, she is still his mother and has shown him love (although at times it doesn't appear so), and hence he must still love her.

Phae15: I know my review for your last chapter of 'Until the End' didn't go through. It was wonderful though, and I cannot wait for more! It is great to see that you read my work, thanks.

Norrsken: As always I welcomed your review, so very detailed! Cannot wait to hear from you again.

Purple Lolly: I am sorry! I know, I like doing that.

Sunny-seid-up: Cassander will indefinitely play a large part in the next coming chapters, I promise.


	3. Missing

**Title**: "Missing"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 3 "Missing"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion, others (don't want to ruin it.)

**Summary**: In the midst of a grand campaign Hephaestion becomes ill, and is then taken prisoner by a band of Indian rebels just after recovering. The experience will change him, Alexander, and many others.

**Warnings**: Violence, sexual content, strong language, the usual.

**A/N**: To begin, in my opinion Cassander was indeed part of the campaigns in the East. Also, this is not historically accurate, for there is no account of Hephaestion being taken prisoner. However, it is purely for entertainment value, and I own nothing apart from my own words.

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Never before had he seen such chaos, and out of his own peers to say the least. He watched as immediate shelters were built, men scurrying around like mice, and all the while they wished to please the cat that would easy rip them to shreds. As he tied his own horse he approached the tent, the first up, and stepped inside. It was clear to see that there was nothing less than chaos behind the shields of the outside world. Already a map laid spread out across the table, one which had been gifted to the king long ago, and upon the map were markers. Outside shouts could still be heard, but no one inside the tent seemed to care. Instead they all stared, waiting, at Alexander as he tried to pull himself together. His brows were knit with concern, perspiration beading upon his forehead, and for a moment he seemed the same shade of newly fallen snow in the mountains. While others stood scared the new intruder stepped forward, listening as Alexander's mind worked. It was a rhythm, a pattern, and he'd trained himself to listen to it. Shortly after he made his way to the front Alexander lifted his head, and an immediate plan spilled from his lips.

"They cannot be far," Alexander stated, something that some agreed with, and others certainly did not. "They attacked the procession here, which means that they could not have come this way. The river to the south is deep, too deep for men to cross merely upon horse. From the north they attacked."

Silence crept over the land once more and Cassander could only hear the heavy breathing of Ptolemy behind him. For an instant he wanted to push him away, for what had he done that had his lungs overpowered? In short he'd ridden his horse and arrived too late to find Hephaestion, too late to save brave soldiers, and now perhaps they would all be too late to save Hephaestion. Already they had decided he'd not been killed during the attack, and instead was a prisoner. One man had been left clinging to life, and his last words were haunting. _They have Hephaestion._ However, this did not mean that Hephaestion would still be alive in days, hours, minutes, moments. For all they knew he was dead now, fighting all the way, and murdered by his captors. The thought was appalling, yet Cassander knew what captive enemies meant. Hephaestion was worth something, yes, for he was a great bargaining piece. Yet one would have to know what a prize they had. Cassander knew Hephaestion, and in knowing him he already knew that Hephaestion would not mention his status. He would let his death come, all the while claiming to be unimportant to Alexander in any way, and as he would like he'd die with pride. He would die knowing that he had never betrayed Alexander, and never led anyone to him.

For a moment nothing was said, for everyone was too afraid to anger Alexander in the slightest. With just one wrong remark a head could be separated from a neck at this point in time. All save Cassander, who boldly continued forth, stopping just before Alexander. Alexander looked up, his brown eyes searching Cassander's for some sort of an answer. Slowly Cassander shook his head, then glanced down to the markers on the map, and he pushed them back with a hand.

"This is their jungle," he then stated kindly, knowing that Alexander was on the verge of almost every emotion. At any moment he could scream, panic, or cry, and any would be detrimental. Cassander then went on, still glancing from time to time at the rest of those in the tent, hoping they would support him. "They know well enough how to navigate her, how to cross large rivers and how to hide amongst the ferns. I already know your plan. You want to find them, and hence you'll leave no turn unchecked nor tree uprooted. Alexander, it is not the best idea. It is rash. Leading men blindly will not solve anything."

"They have Hephaestion," Alexander hissed, his aggression showing true. Cassander tried not to tempt him and instead moved one of the blocks around the map, positioning it where they believed they were. It was hard to tell, for most of Hephaestion's map had not been finished. For how could it be finished when they had not yet seen it?

"Wasting lives is not going to solve this," Cassander announced. "Yes, they have Hephaestion, and we can't very well go on without him. I understand this Alexander. Yet the men are tired, weak, and dying. Go out there and tell them, reasonably, that they must search for one man. They love Hephaestion, or they love you, but not enough to risk their own lives if it can be spared. There is something else that must be done."

"If you have an idea," Nearchus suggested, "you might as well say it. Time is wasting, and we all know there is not too much of it."

"Ptolemy and I will go," Cassander stated, hoping that Ptolemy would have wanted to go. It did not matter. He would have to go now; otherwise he was a coward and not a true friend to Alexander or Hephaestion. "Two men travel faster than a legion, you know this Alexander. Ptolemy and I are quick, and we are rested compared to others. Let us go, and together we shall find him."

"A legion spans out."

"A legion is heard coming, especially here. Alexander, send but two, and I vow we shall have Hephaestion back."

"Then I should go," the king decided. Immediately men around the room looked at one another. It made sense that he would want to rescue Hephaestion. He was after all his lover, and he was in a sense responsible for this. Cassander at least knew that Alexander would be feeling this way. Drawing in a breath Cassander began to shake his head. While Alexander was Hephaestion's friend and lover, he was also a king.

"You cannot go," Cassander told him. "It is too dangerous. You are a king Alexander, you must remain here. There are still many things that must be attended to. Send Ptolemy and I alone."

Alexander contemplated it for a moment. He managed to glance up to Ptolemy who nodded, supporting Cassander's plan. Not only was it different, and unexpected, it was also rather clever. They would be able to find him, if only Alexander would allow it. For a moment Ptolemy did not think that such would work. He could see that Alexander would be fine sending out his entire army to search for Hephaestion. He could not be blamed either, for love did interesting things to a man. Some could not be explained. However, after a moment Alexander weakly nodded, accepting defeat. The Companions filed out after this, not knowing what else to do. It was Cassander that remained.

"Alexander," he began, but found himself stopping. He did not know what he could say to soothe worry. Never before had he ever needed to, for Hephaestion always soothed Alexander in his times of need. Instinctively he shut his mouth and backed away, leaving silently. Alexander did not seem to care what happened now. Instead he stared at the map on the table, thinking of Hephaestion.

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_Day One…. _

The sun seemed to reflect off of the ground, making it all the hotter, and the humidity made the heat even worse. Once more he felt the damp earth beneath the palms of his hands. This time he dug his fingers in before he was pulled up once more. The soil felt soft in his hands, but he could still feel the grit of small pieces of rock. Again he felt hands grab onto his back, almost tearing fabric as they pulled him up, gripping him tighter the higher he was. As the man's hands tightened around him, he tightened his own grip on the soil in his hands. Then, with a good portion of the remaining energy he had, he threw the soil at the Indian, hoping that it would strike where he wanted. Instinctively the man reached up when the soil struck his face, and after rubbing his eyes and muttering something in his own foreign language, he lifted his stick once more. Yet again Hephaestion felt the thick rod as it collided with his back, instantly creating at least a welt. He would not cry out though, refused to, and let the second blow collide with his back again, and in roughly the same area. Lurching forward he hit the ground, but this time he felt another approach and lift him from the ground. Fighting was close to pointless, but he knew it was slowing him down. This was getting old for his captors though, and he felt the rod collide with his temple. As it had before the world went black.

His eyes did not again open until they had reached the Indian camp. As he woke he smelled damp soil, and soon he knew that he was lying on the ground. His head ached, as did the rest of his body, but he began to push himself up. Arms wobbling he managed do push himself up so that he balanced on his knees, yet still the world spun. Slowly he reached up and placed his hand against his temple, and there his fingers found sticky wet blood. Pulling his hand away he reached forward and gripped a bar, his cage. Stubbornly he pulled himself up until he stood, even though this made him clench his jaw in pain. By the time he was standing he was aware of his surroundings. He was in his own cage, centered far away from the camp of Indian men, but next to him there was another cage. In this cage he saw the guards that remained. There were only two, both of which were very young, perhaps too young. For a split second he wondered if they'd bedded a woman, or a man, or if they still were truly innocent. Good guards they were, yes, but young ones all the same.

"They know who you are," one of the young men said. Hephaestion already knew this, and hence could find nothing to say in reply. He drew in a breath and then began to sink to the ground. Crumpled in a pile in the corner he then felt his stomach flip, and before he could compose himself he was retching. For years he had seen agony drive a man to sickness, but never before had he himself felt so ill. He heard the opposite guard say something, but in the end could not hear him before he toppled over himself again. It was as he was wiping the back of his hand against his mouth that he felt sturdy hands grab him, one about his neck and the other in his hair. His head was jerked back and he felt cold water splash against his face. The suddenness caused him to gasp, drawing water into his lungs. He was pulled up and then shoved against the bars, forcing the air out of his lungs, and possibly breaking a rib. Blinding pain caused him to let out another breath of air.

"Dorganus," the voice said, but it was all that Hephaestion could really make out. There was a grunt from another, and he was released. When he hit the ground he scrambled, hoping that it would get him somewhere. However all he received for his efforts was a swift kick in the groin. In the cage beside him he heard the guards screaming, calling out that this was an injustice. Did they not know who Hephaestion was? As Hephaestion heard this he wondered if they would even care. Dorganus perhaps would, for at least he'd at one time fought with him for Alexander, but he knew now that Dorganus did not care if he lived or died. In fact, he most likely wanted him to die.

"Let him watch this," Dorganus joyously announced as he passed the confined guards. Hephaestion watched, waiting to see what the reaction of the Indian men would be. He soon decided that they either understood Dorganus, or Dorganus had already spoken to them, revealing the plan that he was now so clearly proud of. Dorganus motioned for one of the Indian rebels to grab a Macedonian, and as this happened Hephaestion tried to pull himself up. As he did he was kicked again, this time in the right cheek. He heard his jaw pop and instantly he reached up, holding his now bleeding mouth. With a quick movement he corrected his jaw, setting it in place once more. The bleeding did not stop though and he tasted salty blood in his mouth. As he swallowed he could almost taste it and feel it as it slid down his throat and into the pit of his stomach.

"Lord Hephaestion," Dorganus then called, clearly pleased with himself. He was also mocking Hephaestion's title, for all along he'd found that Hephaestion did not deserve such a name. He was no lord, merely a concubine that was allowed to fight in wars. "I think that you'll watch as I kill this youth, just as you have helped kill so many. Are you listening?"

Hephaestion felt hands in his hair again, and his head once more was jerked back by force. As this happened he tried to think of Alexander. He tried to picture that it was Alexander who had wrapped his hand in his hair, gently twirling around his fingers, whispering that he loved him. This image drifted away though as he was slapped hard across the face, Dorganus accusing that he was not listening. This was sport to him, nothing more. For a moment Hephaestion wondered how many men Alexander had ordered tortured, and knew that there were not so many. Again he drew in a breath as the back of Dorganus' man hit him hard across the face. Hephaestion defiantly spit blood, this time managing to hit Dorganus' feet. It did nothing but earn him another, and harder, slap, but for a moment he at least felt gratified. Once more his head was thrust against a set of bars, and once again he felt as if he were going to vomit, or perhaps die. His vision cleared though and he watched as the young guard was tied to a tree. He only began to fight as warm oil was poured over his body. Hephaestion watched his body twitch, and only then did he use the rest of his strength to lunge forward. Instantly he felt something cold touch the back of his leg, but for a second did not comprehend what happened. Soon the pain set in and he knew that it was in fact a dagger, stabbed deeply into the back of his calf. Still, he wanted to help the boy. He had to help the boy. He was his responsibility now. The screaming began as Dorganus took a torch and began walking towards the boy. Hephaestion, despite his injury, dug his fingers into the earth beneath him. He pulled himself forward, refusing to give up like this, and made it the length of his body before he was kicked in the gut. With two more kicks to follow, he knew that he could move no more. The torch fell. The flames leapt up. The cries grew louder. The world stopped.

"Look at him," Dorganus said as he lifted Hephaestion, holding his chin so that he was forced to watch the writhing body. He gave him an elbow to the throat to make sure he was. "I want you to watch this Hephaestion. I think that you need to see what wars create. Listen to him, memorize his screams. They will haunt you before I kill you."

Hephaestion was then thrown back into the cage, hitting his back on the way in, just between his shoulders. He sunk down, unable to stand any longer, and looked down at his leg. There was blood dripping, never a good sign, and he bit his lower lip as he reached down and applied pressure. The guard had stopped jerking though, dead now, and Hephaestion stared at him. Yes, the image would haunt him forever. He was not ashamed to admit it either. Soon he was looking down at his leg though, knowing that the bleeding had slowed, but that infection was worse than blood. He tore at his chiton, ripping off the cleanest piece he could find, and tied it over his calf. Slowly he turned his attention back to the other youth then, wondering what pains he was dealing with. The other seemed asleep though, even though it was still so early in the afternoon.

For some time he just stared at the camp that surrounded him. The cages were far from any huts, yet were still in the center, making sure that at all times someone could view the prisoners. There were warriors, but no signs of anything else. One storage hut was directly diagonal to the sun at midday, and he knew that this meant it was not full of grain, but something else. Glancing up he noted that gray clouds were beginning to gather; another rain would soon fall. After some time he lifted his hand and stared at a ring, one which Alexander had given him long ago. It was faded with age, covered with blood now, but still he saw it. Never before had he believed that praying to the gods would change his fate drastically. However, there was not ever such a time when he needed faith in something so much. He whispered a prayer, closing his eyes while he did so, and then leaned back against the bars that held him. Never before had he felt as if he wanted to live, but also as if he wanted to die.

It was an hour later when the rain began to pour from the skies. Hephaestion glanced up, but already he knew that this was no shelter. The first drops of rain were heavy, thick, and pelted his open wounds and sore body. Hephaestion watched as the second guard remained still, as stiff as a board. He continued to watch, and then he understood. Not only was he devastated, but he was crushed. The other still tied to the tree, smoke rising from his body, had been his lover. They were Companions. Hephaestion, knowing this now, curled his knees up, placing his chin upon them. He continued to rock back and forth, and in the rain he was not ashamed to cry. No one would be able to tell his sorrow through his tears. Soon Alexander would look just as the young boy across from him did. For two hours it rained, and for two hours Hephaestion cried.

When the rain stopped the Indians began to leave their camps once again. Hephaestion's eyelids continued to fail him, shutting every few moments, but he tried to remain awake. As three Indians approached he made sure they stayed open. Each man held a stick, and when they approached they prodded at him through the bars. They spoke something, but he was not sure what. When he crawled into the center of the cage, the prodding stopped. They didn't want him to lean against anything. As he sat they stared at him, saying something, but he was not sure what. He drew in a breath and tended to his calf once more. It had stopped bleeding, yet now the skin was wet and irritated. As the day wore on it looked no better, however he was not sure if it was looking worse. By the time night fell he'd forgotten about the cuts, the headaches, the bruises, and the stiffness of his aching body. Instead he found himself thinking of only Alexander, wondering what he was doing.

Not so far away Alexander stood, rain still dripping from his hair, with his arms across his chest. Through the entire rain he had not moved, and instead he continued to stare out at the horizon. He knew that Hephaestion was still alive, for he could feel it. Glancing around he watched as others went on with their lives at camp. Men drank, and laughed, and all in all they did not seem as concerned as they should have been. Surely if they lost Hephaestion they would lose Alexander as well. One could not go on without the other.

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_Day Two… _

He was exhausted, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it. Throughout the night he'd woken, coughing, and throughout the night he felt his body growing weaker. As the sun rose over the horizon he realized how hungry he really was, and again, there was nothing he could do to change this. There was nothing to drink either, and he felt his lips cracking once more. He wondered what he could do, if anything, to escape. Again he surveyed the area, the cage, and decided that it was close to impossible. When the sun began to light the area he untied the bandage around his leg and saw that nothing was better. No, in fact, it was looking worse. The cut had been bad enough, but now the deep red center was changing into a verdant color. Infection grew fast here, he knew well enough, but this was something else. He reached down with a finger and tried to scrape away the flaking skin. It hurt beyond belief, but some of the green peeled away, and he withdrew his bloody, shaking fingers. Without thought he leaned against the bars once more, seeing no other around, and let his body shake for a moment before pulling himself together.

"You look like death," he heard a voice say, and he glanced over his shoulder. Dorganus stood smirking, pleased with himself. In a split second it reminded Hephaestion of Cassander, who often smirked when he was about to thrash someone. It was then that he decided to be strong. He pulled his legs closer and then forced himself up, pretending that he felt nothing at all. It was not true though, he felt each movement. As he stood before Dorganus he tried not to tremble and continued to glare at him. Dorganus motioned for the door to be opened, and then Hephaestion was escorted out, one man on each side. They could have been gentle, considering he was cooperating, but when they dug their nails into his skin he was not surprised. Weakly he let them pull him away from the cage and toward one of the huts.

When they entered Hephaestion saw the chains hanging from the thick boards that held up the roof. As he was chained he glanced up, not moving his head to do so, and contemplated pulling the roof down. He gave a firm tug, and nothing happened. It was useless. His focus then went back to Dorganus, who sat on a single chair in the room. Dorganus averted his eyes, making sure to dramatically point out the array of weapons sitting on a table. Hephaestion blinked, not at all afraid.

"Where is the arrogant brat," Dorganus asked, clearly referring to Alexander. Hephaestion would not answer. Dorganus had expected this and lifted a small, long piece of thin metal. Rising, he placed it against Hephaestion's shoulder, and then reached back for a flat hammer. Without the slightest bit of remorse he struck the piece of metal hard, shoving it into Hephaestion's flesh. He then set the hammer down nonchalantly and asked again.

"Before me," Hephaestion replied. He was hit hard across the face. Next he felt a hand around his throat, pressing, closing off his windpipe. "I will say nothing."

"I think you will," Dorganus said as he brought his knee to Hephaestion's groin. Hephaestion began to sink, but the chains held him up, pulling at his sore shoulders. Dorganus stepped away and stopped before the table, looking for something. "You are a fool not to just give him up Hephaestion. He is a murderer, a fool, and now he beds a eunuch. That must really hurt you. In fact, I may be doing you a favor. Perhaps he'll come back to you if you lack testicles. However, I guess that it won't matter anyway. You will never go back."

"Still, you'll get no answers."

"Do you see this here? This is a very interesting liquid. When poured on open wounds it burns them. Is that not truly amazing? The people here use it for injuries, or to help with snakebite. Yet when it comes to you, I think it will just hurt. Besides, you were always so charming, and before you die you'll have blisters. Every inch of your body with be horrid before you dine in Hades."

"So kill me," Hephaestion whispered. This time Dorganus slid a dagger across Hephaestion's cheek, instantly drawing blood and a hiss from his captive. His hand then pressed against Hephaestion's cheek, drawing even more blood. Finally he was close enough and Hephaestion forced his head forehead. The impact was enough to make Dorganus stagger, but in the long run Hephaestion knew it hurt him more.

"I am sick of this," screamed Dorganus. "Give him up Hephaestion!"

"Never." Dorganus left the room suddenly then, and Hephaestion believed for a moment that he would remain here, alone. He did not though. Almost a minute later a darker man walked in, dressed in Indian garb. Hephaestion drew in a breath and then sighed, knowing that it had only just begun. Resolved, he closed his eyes, and waited. The torture was not so terrible, a series of burning and cutting, but what had happened next broke him. When he was grabbed, placed in position, he tried to think of something else. Yet in the end it had not worked, and before the pain set in he cried out Alexander's name. Over and over again he screamed his name, for he was the only one he loved. When it was over he tried to place it out of mind, tried to remember that rape was not his fault, but all the while he thought of Alexander. He could be nothing to him now.

When he was thrown back into the cage he was almost unrecognizable. His forehead was bruising, his nose on the verge of broken, and his lips torn, blistered, and bleeding. One cheek had a cut, the other a small burn. The front of his neck was black and blue, and shapes of a hand and rope could be seen. Both of his shoulders, and his back, were covered in cuts that varied in sizes, and they came with yellowed bruises. His arms were the worst, cut and then burned with the liquid Dorganus had been so proud of. Hephaestion's chest was not much better, again bruised and cut. His legs were spared for the most part, excluding the previous cut. As he lay sprawled out on the wet earth he coughed, and his body shook involuntarily. For a moment he was silent, and then he cried out, hitting his fist against the ground. It was silent, far too silent. It seemed as if there was no life in the camp, nor near it, and Hephaestion heard not even the wind. He closed his eyes.

When he woke it was raining again, and this time at least he was pleased that it was. The rain washed the dirt from his wounds. Hephaestion pulled himself up and stood; head pressed to the bars, and let his lower lip quiver. The rain dripped into his mouth, and he tried to swallow. It hurt, each move, but he knew that it had to be done. For hours it rained, and as he drank, the pain lessened. Soon enough he'd had a cup of water, but it had taken him until nightfall to do so. Finally satisfied he closed his eyes and while leaning against the side of the cage tried to sleep. He would need it for tomorrow, for he knew well enough what Dorganus was doing. He was keeping him alive, just so that the next day he could hurt him all the more. In a demented way it was ingenious.

_Day Three… _

He placed a hand on his sword and then crept forward, not wanting to startle the other. With great stealth he placed his hand over Ptolemy's mouth, and then let go, telling the other to be silent. From where they stood they could see Hephaestion, or what was left of him. Cassander motioned to Ptolemy, for now they knew that huts surrounded the entire area. It was then that Cassander glanced over his shoulder, hearing the footsteps in the distance.

"Go," Cassander insisted quickly. "They already know that someone lurks, but not that there are two of us. Hurry, go. Get back to Alexander and tell him where we are, and do it quickly."

Not much more needed to be said. Ptolemy nodded, and then slipped away into the jungle. Cassander waited where he was, glancing up at the trees, which seemed to move. Suddenly it began to sink in. Yes, this was their terrain, not his own. As he watched a small line of trees swayed, and instantly Cassander recalled Hephaestion telling him about the beasts that lived in the trees. Once again he turned and began to run, knowing well enough that the Indian warriors were lithe in the trees. Quickly he bounded through the forest, making all the noise he could to give Ptolemy time to go the other direction. He leapt over vines and piles of wood, and in the end he slid to a stop before running directly into a line of Indian warriors. Smirking he pushed himself up and checked over his shoulder. Sure enough, he was surrounded, but he noted that the trees had stopped swaying. Yes, Ptolemy would be far enough now. Drawing in a breath he laughed as an angry man stepped forward, club in hand, and raised it. Yet then the men began to part, allowing their leading to step forward. Cassander was not surprised in the slightest when he saw Dorganus.

"Well," Cassander laughed, knowing that his day couldn't get any better. "I knew in Gaugamela that you would be a deserter, however, I never expected you to become this."

"Enjoy your time with Hephaestion, Cassander," Dorganus mocked back, "for we both know that you'd spend no time with him any other way."

It was as Cassander was slammed against the side of the cage that Hephaestion's head jerked up. As the door slammed shut Cassander lunged out at the guard, reaching through the bars to grab him. Instantaneously his hand was grabbed by another and Hephaestion heard the sound of bones breaking. Unabashed Cassander screamed, but he did it with a convincing anger. Once released Cassander muttered a slur of curses before turning once more to Hephaestion, dropping to his knees while he did so. Reaching out he placed his hand under Hephaestion's chin, wary of the injuries that covered his face, and slowly lifted his eyes so that he could look upon him. Hephaestion looked defeated, even though he made an attempt to smile at Cassander. The gesture tugged at the strings of Cassander's heart, which he forgot he had. His question, which had been plaguing him for the last three days, was answered. Yes, he was changed. Yet in his eyes Cassander still saw his hope, his determination, and his damnable stubbornness. Despite trying to act as if he did not care Cassander smiled, laughed slightly, and then threw his arms around Hephaestion. If it hurt him he did not care. Hephaestion had no idea how much he was hurting him.

"How did you," Hephaestion began, but then stopped. While he had begun speaking his lips had begun to bleed once more, along with his tongue perhaps. Cassander placed his thumb against Hephaestion's lower lip, over a deep gouge, and tried to remain calm. Hephaestion barely seemed to care about Cassander's touch, or anything at all. He was almost lifeless.

"Alexander will be here soon," Hephaestion stated hopefully. There was a spark, ignited in those saddened cerulean eyes. Cassander ran a hand over Hephaestion's hair, trying to soothe him, and then went on. He wanted to mention Alexander's name as much as possible. "Alexander will be here soon. He is two days away, at the most, but you know him. Alexander yearns to find you Hephaestion."

"I know," Hephaestion whispered, and once again he slept. Nothing disturbed him either, not Cassander running his hands over his head in reassurance, or the jeers that were shouted out by the Indian warriors. Nothing could have woken him, for in truth, he did not want to wake. Yet he did wake, was forced to wake, as boiling water was thrown upon him. Cassander started as well, and with strength he was up in a moment's time, trying to beat his captors. Hephaestion remained, feeling as if he could do nothing, but then slowly found his strength. He managed to pull himself up and as Cassander was hit hard across the face he leapt at his attacker. Hephaestion managed to throw his arms around the man before he was kicked hard, and his body ached so badly that he did not even know where it hurt. Cassander was up again and managed to grab the Indian while others surrounded. In the end they killed one, but were captured by at least a good ten more. While they were being drug away Hephaestion knew well enough where they were going, to the hut that he'd entered yesterday, the hut he wished he never would have left.

Cassander was chained first, and Hephaestion was forced to his knees. He felt the ground beneath him, hard and dry here, and lifted his head. Cassander watched each move, trying to decipher what it was Hephaestion was telling him. It was a silent plea, a silent wish. _I want to die,_ his eyes said, and Cassander shook his head, forcing his jaw to tighten. Dorganus walked in then, and as he did he made sure to kick Hephaestion in the back on the way by. Hephaestion fell forward, his stomach hitting the wooden post in front of him. Dorganus gained nothing but pleasure from this. He laughed, and laughed even more as Cassander tried to jerk away from his chains, as if he truly thought he could help Hephaestion now. As the other tore at his chains, cutting his wrists while he did so, Dorganus grabbed Hephaestion's hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him up. The weapons were gone from the table now, but he still had a use for it.

"Is he not beautiful," Dorganus asked, speaking to Cassander. Cassander's reply was a stream of curses before he was punched hard across the face by a guard. "Yes, so beautiful. It is no secret why Alexander would want this one for himself. After all, is it not expected for men to love one another? What do you think Cassander, if you had the chance, would you bed him?"

"Let him go," Cassander ordered. When he did this Hephaestion received the blow, and as his head flung forward blood oozed from his mouth, yet he did not speak. He did not speak or moan, but rather sat silently. Again Dorganus asked for an answer, and again Cassander replied in the same manner. Hephaestion once more was hit. The third time was different. On the third time Hephaestion was not hit. The answer was accepted.

"Yes," Cassander responded. "Yes, I would. If I had the chance I would!"

"So would I," Dorganus agreed. "However, I was able to try him yesterday. I don't see what Alexander finds so inviting about him. Pretty, yes, but he doesn't make a sound. I think I rubbed him a bit raw, but still nothing."

"Son of a whore," Cassander screamed out, once again pulling upon his chains. He pulled himself as far forward as he could reach, but it did not help. Even if he kicked out he would not strike Dorganus. As he struggled Dorganus placed his hand on Hephaestion's neck, causing Hephaestion to flinch, and his hand then pressed against his skin as he stroked down Hephaestion's back. All the while Cassander struggled he watched, knowing already what Dorganus was planning. "Let him go you bastard! You're a coward! You're a coward or you would have me."

"A coward," Dorganus asked as he placed a hand upon Hephaestion's thigh. Hephaestion flinched once more, and when he went to move his hands were bound tighter, tied to a bar at the edge of the table. Once more he flinched as Dorganus blew a soft breath against his shoulder, and for this he was punched hard in the side. Cassander watched as he gave up, his strength failing him, even though he would have fought until death if he could. Dorganus slid his hand up Hephaestion's chiton, and Cassander screamed out once again as he watched Hephaestion bite his lip.

"Look how well he is trained," Dorganus next cooed. His hand still hid beneath Hephaestion's chiton. "No movement, no sound, he just does what his master tells him. He is a bitch, fucked and trained like a dog. But look how sad he appears. I don't think his father beat him enough when he was younger."

"Let him go," Cassander cried out, his face red with anger. He felt the chain against his arm rubbing into his skin, cutting him, but it was nothing compared to what Alexander was feeling. He knew this well enough. "This gets you nowhere Dorganus, nowhere!"

"Watch him," the other ordered, slapping Hephaestion across the face when his eyes began to close. Hesitantly Hephaestion turned his head, resting the opposite cheek upon the table, and stared blankly at Cassander. Cassander screamed, cursed, threatened, pleaded, but nothing stopped Dorganus from shoving himself into Hephaestion, a barbaric act. Hephaestion barely moved, and when he did it was brought on by Dorganus' actions. Otherwise he was lifeless, and even his eyes were dead. Moment after moment passed and Cassander continued to scream, and it was all in vain. When Dorganus was done with him he drove his elbow into his back, and then stepped out of the hut, giving an order to the guards that remained. Lifeless, almost, Hephaestion was drug first from the hut. Next Cassander was drug out, fighting all the way. Yet they were not taken far, and were not taken back to the cages. Instead their hands were tightened behind their backs and they were both thrust down to their knees, where they then were forced to place their heads on large, bloodied stones. They were to be executed.

"I'm sorry," Cassander said, and finally Hephaestion blinked. For a moment he appeared as if he heard him, and as if again he were conscious of the world around him. Slowly he frowned, not understanding what it was that Cassander was saying. "I am sorry that I failed you Hephaestion. I'm sorry that I did not get here sooner. I made Alexander a promise, and I have failed him as well."

"I can't go back," Hephaestion replied faintly. "I cannot go back like this."

Dorganus shouted to the gathering crowd. What they said was beyond comprehension to Cassander, or even to Hephaestion, though he'd come to learn many dialects. Cassander continued to try to free himself, but he knew it was pointless. When he saw the sword in the hand of the man next to Dorganus he knew that surely it would cut through his neck. There was no chance to survive this. As his hope failed him he heard Hephaestion whispering beside him.

"Zeus guide me, Ares gift me, Hades be kind upon me…Alexander love me."

Cassander began to slowly move, forcing himself closer to Hephaestion. Already Hephaestion was repeating his prayer once more. Yet he then closed his eyes, and he drew in a short breath. He had given up. Cassander moved faster, trying to get to his side. He shouted his name, and upon the second shout he heard another shout Hephaestion's name. As he glanced up he saw Alexander. Never before had he looked so grand a king.

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A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews! What do you think of this chapter? Well, hope to hear from you. See you in the next chapter!!!


	4. Beaten

**Title**: "Missing"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 4 "Beaten"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion, Dorganus/Hephaestion

**Summary**: In the midst of a grand campaign Hephaestion becomes ill, and is then taken prisoner by a band of Indian rebels just after recovering. The experience will change him, Alexander, and many others.

**Warnings**: Violence, sexual content, strong language, the usual.

**A/N**: To begin, in my opinion Cassander was indeed part of the campaigns in the East. Also, this is not historically accurate, for there is no account of Hephaestion being taken prisoner. However, it is purely for entertainment value, and I own nothing apart from my own words.

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As Alexander and his small band of generals and volunteer commanders approached the camp nothing was said. The world went still suddenly, and fear struck even the hearts of the men that had not seen the acts that had just come to pass. However, as Alexander approached he appeared defeated, as did the rest of the men in his command. The king himself, mounted upon Bucephalus, held in his arms the lifeless Hephaestion, who many mistook immediately for a corpse. Pale and lifeless his head was cradled against Alexander's neck, his arms hanging limply and swaying with each step Bucephalus took, and all the while he showed no sign of life. Blood dripped from his fingertips, trails of blood flowing to one central point, and to match him blood dripped from Alexander. It was not Alexander's blood that dripped from his body, but instead that of those in the camp that had taken him. His golden hair was now a crimson stained red, as was most of his body. While Alexander's appearances brought fear it was nothing compared to that of Cassander. Closely behind Alexander rode Cassander, silent, his eyes dark and menacing. It was not unusual to see him in such a mood, but then again, he had never before worn a hand tied to a rope around his neck. He'd never carried a man's head in his lap either. Questions were raised, but no one spoke up. Instead thousands watched as Alexander carefully dismounted, never once letting go of Hephaestion, and strode into his tent. Following him were the best physicians that the world had to offer.

"Move back," Philip ordered, placing a hand upon Alexander's shoulder. He guided the king away, not an easy feat, and then stared down at Hephaestion. Again he saw how surprised he could be when it came to matters of the mortal body. Had one described to him some of the wounds that Hephaestion bore he would have told them they were mistaken, for no patient could live through such. Hephaestion was an example of what atrocities one could face, and still the body would try to replenish itself. Stopping a bit short he placed a hand over his mouth, and then he sat. It was hard to tell which injury could be the worse, so he began at the head and vowed to work his way down. All the while he spoke to the other physicians and pages nearest him, hoping they would know what to do.

"Warm water to wipe him down with," Philip said first, knowing that in order to see anything he would have to remove the blood and dirt that covered his body. While the pages wiped the towels over Hephaestion's body the physician went on. First he noted the small bumps and bruises that covered Hephaestion's forehead. While they could cause him to be dizzy, or feel nauseous, it was not something that needed immediate tending to. The cut on his cheek was deep, and would need a stitch of two, but again was not a focal point. For what seemed like hours Philip continued to look Hephaestion over. All the while Hephaestion did not move as he should have. Any other man would have woken, especially with the poking and prodding that Philip and the others were doing, but he was clearly lost in sleep. While they worked Alexander sat, tears filling his eyes, watching helplessly. He knew that there was nothing he could do to help, but if he had the chance he would do anything.

"Alexander," Philip beckoned, pulling Alexander from his thoughts. Alexander rose and came to his side, glancing over Hephaestion as he did so. Not an inch of him was unmarred by some distinct wound. Philip lifted one of Hephaestion's arms, turning it ever so carefully, revealing a piece of flesh that had been burned together.Instantly Alexander dropped do his knees, finally letting his tears fall. Why was it Hephaestion who always paid for his wrongs? For a moment he continued to panic, grief filling him even worse than it had before.

"If it is reopened," Philip insisted, "I can then save him a thick scar. It may not scar at all, but to open it I'll have to cut his arm back open. It is a risk, for it could cause any infection he already has to worse. Yet the wound now is unclean. Tell me, my king, what would you have me do?"

It took long enough for Alexander to answer. Never before had he been forced to make a decision of such importance. Either way he felt as if he were choosing wrong, though. Should they reopen the wound then Hephaestion's condition could worsen, and for what, for the mere appearance of a scar? Even if the wound was burned and needed salves, it still boiled down to such. Yet if the wound was already infected already it needed to be cut away. In the end Alexander nodded, and while he did so wrapped a hand around Hephaestion's wrist. As Philip cut through the seared flesh Alexander watched Hephaestion, waiting for him move, but he didn't in the slightest. It was this way for an entire two hours. For two hours Philip cut away flesh that needed to be reworked, and for two hours Alexander sat waiting for Hephaestion to awaken in the middle of a cutting. Finally Philip was done, and when he rose to leave he took with him torn sheets that were covered in Hephaestion's blood, chunks of skin wrapped within them as well. Alexander rose reluctantly and followed him out of the tent.

"Well," Alexander asked. He had been there though. Already he knew what Hephaestion had gone through. It was hard to determine whether or not he was breathing at times, his breath faint, and his skin so pale it looked like ice. Still Philip drew in a breath and began to slowly shake his head. For once he was stumped, because for once he feared that he would not be right, no matter what he said.

"The sickness took a toll on his body," Philip answered finally. "He was weak enough when he was taken, but now I fear his body might not come back. His body is cold, and the wounds vary. The smallest of cuts are deep, and the worst of them are almost too deep. He's lost a great deal of blood Alexander, perhaps too much for us to bring him back from. He has taken a beating my Lord, from head to toe. I fear that perhaps he shall not awaken."

"You've been wrong before," Alexander said hopefully. Philip nodded, giving Alexander at least that much, and then stepped away. It was as the physician walked away that Alexander wrapped his arms around himself and screamed. He screamed so loud that some believed he could have been heard in Macedon. As he cried out Cassander glanced up from where he sat. Another physician was tending to his broken fingers, setting them. The other soon looked back to his hand, but still he heard Alexander stomp into his tent, where Hephaestion was likely still asleep if not worse. Yet he knew had Hephaestion gone on Alexander would have screamed louder.

"Was it so terrible," asked the medic that tended to Cassander's hand. No answer came, but when he glanced up he knew the general before him was not going to speak of it. They did not need to speak of such. Clearly, enough had already been said.

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_One Week Later…_

"Alexander," a faint voice whispered. Even though he'd not slept in a week, and he had fallen into a sleep that would have claimed him for days, Alexander lifted his head. His hand tightened around Hephaestion's and he pushed himself up. Staring down at Hephaestion he smiled, for finally he had woken and was conscious enough to speak. Alexander drew in a breath, and once again held back tears, before he was able to speak. Hephaestion blinked twice in the time it took, his eyes gazing around the tent for a moment as if he did not know where he was.

"You're safe," Alexander said softly. As he reached out to place a palm against Hephaestion's cheek Hephaestion jerked back. He'd only seen the gesture out of the corner of his eye, and still he was wary of being touched. Even when Philip came to change his bandages he jerked away, as if half still stuck in a memory he could not avoid. This time Alexander placed his hand quickly upon Hephaestion's cheek and stilled him with his other hand, pressing firmly against his shoulder as he tried to push away.

"Hephaestion," he assured him, "it is only I. By the gods…what did they do to you?"

"Don't look at me," Hephaestion asked, and even though his voice was weak, as was the rest of his body, he still had conviction. A single tear fell from the corner of his eye and he reached up, placing his hand over Alexander's. "Please, Alexander, don't look at me."

"There is nothing wrong with you Hephaestion," Alexander insisted once more. He moved his hand back to Hephaestion's cheek and leaned closer. In truth there was nothing wrong with him. Cuts and bruises did not make a man, nor did any other physical feature. For the first time Hephaestion seemed to have forgotten this, and instead he placed a hand over his face. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks before he shook his head and pushed himself into a sitting position. Alexander helped him, determined not to let Hephaestion waste all of his energy on this one movement, despite Hephaestion's protests. Hephaestion coughed, and Alexander reached for a cup of water, which Hephaestion pushed away with a hand. The coughing stopped shortly after it had begun and he averted his eyes from Alexander, purposely trying to hide his stitched cheek.

"I just don't want you to see me like this," he whispered.

"Like what Phae? Tell me what it is that bothers you. For a week you have said nothing, not to anyone. Hephaestion I watch you, constantly. You refuse to eat, will not drink, and hate every small touch against you. Please, my love, tell me what happened. I know that it is hard to speak of, but I want to know. I want to understand it Hephaestion…Hephaestion, I am sorry. I've tried to steal your freedom from you slowly over the years, I know, but I've done it because I am scared. I worry for you Hephaestion. I cannot go on without you, cannot, so I cannot let anything happen to you."

"Alexander, please, do not ask me what happened. There will be a time, but it is not now, and not here."

"Alexander," a voice interrupted. Alexander cursed and glanced over his shoulder. By the gods Ptolemy had the worst timing. Alexander turned back to Hephaestion, but already Hephaestion had lain back down. He had turned onto his side as well, using a blanket as a cover so that Ptolemy could not see him in the slightest. Without saying anything else, or touching him, for he feared no matter where he placed his hand he would hurt him, Alexander stood and crossed the tent to Ptolemy. They exited the tent, and already Ptolemy knew what bothered Alexander so. It was not hard to tell, and many of the Companions knew that Hephaestion was changed. However, they also had faith in him.

"He will be himself soon," Ptolemy assured Alexander as he led him across the camp. It was still hot, and the humidity was not better either, but the men were working at a steady pace. Already trees were being cut down and cleared so that a more permanent establishment could be made. Within the week Alexander would have his own small hut ready, even though small meant grand. Of course Hephaestion would enter it with him. He had not let Hephaestion out of his sight for more than an hour at a time, and even then he had others check on him. Alexander glanced and nodded at a few men as he passed them, as did Ptolemy, but still their minds were on a blue-eyed general.

"I cannot help him," Alexander muttered uneasily. "They beat him badly Ptolemy. In three days they, Dorganus, made it so that he…Whatever happened at that camp has changed him Ptolemy, and I do not know what I can do to help him. What do I say to him? _Hephaestion, what happened was terrible, but you must move on now._ How could I ever tell him that?"

"Is that what you wish to say to him," Ptolemy asked. Alexander shook his head, running a hand over his brow, and already he was wiping away beading sweat. "Alexander when we were young what did Cleitus tell us in training? Did not he say to take the one thing from your enemy that makes them worthy of living? For most we take their lives, yes, but for some there can be a physicality, ideal, anything, that is worth more than life. Dorganus knew Hephaestion, and he knew you as well. He wanted to harm you Alexander, not Hephaestion."

"I know what he did," Alexander hissed. "He tried to take away every physical desire that I could ever have for Hephaestion. Yes, he wanted to harm me, but look what he's done to him Ptolemy. I can't even touch him. He doesn't wish to eat, or drink, it is as if he doesn't want to live."

"Perhaps he doesn't wish to live at the moment. Look at me Alexander, let time pass. He is Hephaestion, Alexander, and always will be."

"I feel guilty leaving him even now."

"Well I assure you, this needs your attention." Ptolemy continued to step past men, and finally they approached where Cassander had positioned his own tent. As always he made sure to remain just on the edge of the boundaries that Alexander had set for his generals. However, Alexander could already smell the problem that Ptolemy was going to complain about. "He has had Dorganus' head on a spear for a week now. I assure you, there are some that believe the message is important, but the smell is not viable"

"Give me a moment with him," Alexander said with a sigh. Ptolemy obliged and went off to tend to other business. With Alexander tending to Hephaestion he had graciously offered to oversee the small details that Alexander had pushed to the side. This, however, was going to be an argument. Alexander glanced once more at the head, now decorated with maggots and disease, before stepping into the tent. Cassander sat sharpening a dagger and did not even glance up as his king entered. Instead he went on for a few strokes before lifting his eyes, but nothing else about his positioning changed.

"Are you here about Dorganus?"

"So Ptolemy has already spoken to you," Alexander replied, not understanding why Ptolemy had needed him. He sat, invited or not, and kept his eyes on Cassander. At least, he thought thankfully, Cassander had gotten rid of the hand he'd worn about his neck. Either that or Ptolemy had already found a way of stealing it. "Cassander, I understand it. If it were up to me, fine, bring it with us till we reach the end of the world. Yet you must consider what is right, and already I have many logical reasons about why you should remove it."

"Well," Cassander laughed, "I cannot wait to hear them."

"Disease, angering the gods, common courtesy…"

"Common courtesy," Cassander bellowed. He tossed the dagger down before standing, his face already red with rage. "You want me to show that son of a whore common courtesy after what he did to Hephaestion? The gods, well fuck the gods as well, for I did not see any gods protecting Hephaestion when Dorganus…"

"When what," Alexander asked, sensing that Cassander was referring to something more than just the wounds that covered Hephaestion. Cassander shook his head and muttered something before turning away. He picked up a cup of water and drank it quickly, in a matter of three gulps, then collapsed back down onto a pile of furs that made up his bed. "Cassander, what happened? Tell me, I've seen that look before. What is it that you do not want to say?"

"You know what happened."

"What, Cassander, what happened?"

"Do not play dumb with me Alexander," Cassander screamed. "Zeus be damned, you are no fool! You know what fucking happened, but you don't want to admit it to yourself, because you know that then you've failed him. For all of these years he has thrown himself at your feet, protecting you, and what have you done for him? Your heart is not enough. Your heart does not protect him. I bled for him while Dorganus touched him, while he violated him, and where were you?"

"Stop," Alexander ordered.

"He raped him," Cassander screamed louder, spit flying out of his mouth with his anger. "He raped him because he's lover you all of these years and now you bitch because I killed the man that dared to touch him!"

"Cassander…"

"What a sad group of Companions we are. Each of us looks out for another, and in doing so we can't even keep one man safe from these poor bastards." Cassander laughed after a moment, but his eyes and tone were sad. Silently he lay back and stared up at the light that filtered in through the top of the tent. "This was not the way our lives were supposed to be, at least, it was not what I thought. You remember in Mieza, when first you decided that you wanted, desired, Hephaestion. I shall remember that day for the rest of my life."

"You're losing your mind," Alexander said as he began to leave. He left, blathering about how Cassander needed to drink more water. Cassander continued to stare up at what he could make out of the sky. Yes, he remembered that day. Only a week before he'd told Alexander, in confidence, that he found Hephaestion rather attractive. Things had not played out as he'd hoped. Alexander had found the courage to woo Hephaestion, and he had not, and so the story went. Upon the day Alexander decided he was in love with Hephaestion, so long ago now, Cassander lost his reason to live; what is a world without love?

"Hephaestion," Alexander said in the meantime as he entered his tent. Hephaestion was asleep in the same position he had been in. He wanted nothing to do with the world it seemed. Alexander said his name once more before sitting upon the edge of the bed, now willing to forcefully awaken Hephaestion.

"What is it," Hephaestion asked, yawning while he began to wake. Dark lines were forming under his eyes from the lack of sleep. His eyes also showed that he was out of energy. Even each breath he took seemed labored, pained. Alexander looked over him once more, trying to push thoughts of Cassander's words out of his mind. Yet, yes, he knew well enough what had happened. He knew when Hephaestion first shied from his touch. Silently he surveyed him, all the while trying to convince himself that it could not be true. Worry began to creep across Hephaestion's features. Hesitantly he pushed himself up on an elbow, and only then did he notice the tear stains that streaked Alexander's cheeks.

"Even now," Alexander whispered, placing a hand over Hephaestion's. He then drew in a breath, his body trembling. "Even now the gods would envy you Hephaestion. You have strength they could never master, and a soul so pure it would put even Pallas to shame."

"Am I not going to make it," Hephaestion teased. His smile was genuine, and already Alexander feared that he meant it. Calmly Hephaestion returned to resting his head against the pillow. All the while smiling he went on, fear or question never once entering his voice. "We knew long ago that it would end like this Alexander. Achilles never went first Alexander; it was always Patroclus."

"No, it is not that. Philip reports that you are better; healing each day. There is nothing that would suggest otherwise."

"Then why do you look so sad?"

"What they did…what he did," Alexander said, tears in his eyes, "was my fault Hephaestion. My acts caused Dorganus to do this to you."

"Alexander I can barely understand you." Hephaestion understood each word though. Long ago he'd learned to listen to Alexander, no matter his mood. Anger and tears always altered his voice, yet Hephaestion could always make out what he said, and often what he did not say. However, Alexander's head sunk to the side of the bed, and Hephaestion pushed himself up once again as Alexander began to cry. Every move he made hurt, but he was not going to complain. Instead he placed his hand upon Alexander's hair, and as he did he felt the same feeling of regret that he had been feeling. When Alexander looked at him, or touched him, he felt a pang of guilt, shame even. As hard as he tried he could not rid himself of the shame, even though consciously he knew he had done nothing wrong.

"I love you," Alexander then whispered. He lifted his head. Once more he searched Hephaestion's eyes for a truth not told. Hephaestion said nothing, merely watched him as well. "I shall always love you Hephaestion, I swear it."

"In time," Hephaestion whispered. "In time you will hear the rest of the story, I promise. It is too soon though."

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The last wall was being pushed upward as Cassander crossed through the camps. It was truly amazing what Alexander's forces could do in a matter of weeks. As he passed Hephaestion's tent he noted that Hephaestion was not in it, which only indicated that once again he'd spent the night in Alexander's care. There was no suspicion in such. Hephaestion was healing remarkably well, at least on the outside, but it was his mental state that Cassander worried about. In silence he entered Alexander's tent, knowing the king would not be present. His personal quarters had already been built, yet Hephaestion liked the cooler air in the nights. Surprisingly he also looked forward to rain.

"Cassander," Hephaestion whispered as he pushed himself up, propping himself with an elbow on the bed. He drew in a quick breath before sitting all the way up, putting a sheet over his bare chest. Cassander took nothing from this and instead pulled a chair up.

"We need to talk."

"Oh," Hephaestion replied with a nod. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly unsure of what this talk could be about. For a moment Cassander smirked. It was interesting to have Hephaestion wondering if he'd forgotten an appointment, yet soon he asked. "What is it that troubles you, Cassander, and what makes you think I am the one to soothe the ache?"

"Alexander already knows," Cassander said frankly. "He knows that Dorganus raped you, and always has. But I fear there is something that you do not know Hephaestion."

"I know," Hephaestion whispered.

"No," he stated abruptly. "I can see it in your eyes Hephaestion. You are beaten, and you shouldn't be. Look at me, you shouldn't be. What has happened to you is like a battle, but there is no winner here, not unless one man concedes. Dorganus only wins if you let him, and he doesn't have your body Hephaestion. The only thing he has is your mind. Do not let him win, do you understand me? You are not going to let him win!"

"I…"

"When we were boys in Mieza," Cassander went on, "you thought everything was so simple. I remember you, the inquisitive blue-eyed boy who wanted only to see Alexander happy. It was not so simple for the rest of us Hephaestion. While you were bedding Alexander the rest of us envied you, and I admit, I envied you more than any other. Do you remember Attalus?"

"Yes."

"He wanted you," Cassander said, reaching forward and turning Hephaestion's chin so that once more he was forced to look at him. "Each night when he crept into our room he found himself in the wrong bed, and each night you held onto your innocence whilst mine was taken from me."

"Cassander….I didn't know…"

"No," he answered. "No one knew. You are the first person to hear about it, and I am only telling you in order to assure you that they don't win. Attalus did not win, and Hephaestion, you will beat Dorganus. Hephaestion, please, wake up and move on. Alexander is here, now, and he loves you. What else could you possibly need to remember and let haunt you?"

"Cassander," a voice interrupted. Both men turned their attention to Alexander who had stepped into the room quietly. "Ptolemy needs your help, now."

"Of course," Cassander said. He stood, winked at Hephaestion subtly, and then stepped away. Hephaestion watched him go, and then turned his gaze to Alexander. He drew in a breath and then patted the bed beside him.

"There is a story I need to tell you," Hephaestion whispered. Alexander sat, willing to hear it. For the first time Hephaestion knew how right Cassander was. No, he couldn't let Dorganus win, and telling Alexander what had happened was the first step to forgetting the entire incident.

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A./N: Thanks to all of my reviewers! I am so sorry this post is so late. I was sick, then I had homework, and then I went on Spring Break. Isn't this just a lame excuse…yeah…okay. But here it is! Only the epilogue to go!


	5. Epilogue: The Story

**Title**: "Missing"

**Author**: Baliansword

**Rating**: T for Teen

**Chapter**: 5 "Epilogue: The Story"

**Pairings**: Alexander/Hephaestion, Dorganus/Hephaestion

**Summary**: In the midst of a grand campaign Hephaestion becomes ill, and is then taken prisoner by a band of Indian rebels just after recovering. The experience will change him, Alexander, and many others.

**Warnings**: Violence, sexual content, strong language, the usual.

**A/N**: My epilogue will perhaps begin my next story. As you will see Alexander's son with Barsine, Hercules Alexandros, is present. The dates, and hence his age, may be a bit off. In fact, a lot of it may be a bit off, but I don't care. So please, remember this is creative work, so don't flame me!

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…_Greece, 318 BC…_

"And the rest of the story," the narrator finally said from his position on the balcony, "has been lost for the most part. We of course know what happened, but each detail is gone, except from memory. I was there, just like many of the Companions. Alexander finished his settlement in the Hindu Kush, and all the while he fretted over Hephaestion. Some say that the gods do not play into the lives of mortals, and I will tell them on pain of death that they are wrong, for they were not there to witness Hephaestion's recovery. Scars that should have formed on his body never did, and he grew to be stronger from his experience. Within a month no one would have been able to tell that anything had happened to him. He was beautiful, as always.

"After a month Hephaestion was well again and he and Alexander, as always, found themselves in each others arms. Roxanne complained more and more about how her husband was negligent to their bed, and it should not have surprised her when no one cared. Soon enough, after Alexander and Hephaestion has worn their beds out, we began to march further into the Hindu Kush. It was then that we met the Indians, and their giant elephant beasts, and that is what they speak of to young boys now. When they tell stories of India it is this battle they refer to, and how can I blame them. It was a mighty battle.

"Alexander fell in this battle, but sometimes I think that this is forgotten. When no other would ride forth he did, pushing Bucephalus until the horse could go no faster. He met the attack, Hephaestion trailing behind him, and some of us would have thought he won. Yes, a spear struck him down, and two more pierced through Bucephalus. Hephaestion was struck as well, and some of us believed he'd never walk again. Others believed Alexander would never rise again either, but he was carried back to camp upon the shield of Achilles. Miracles happen my boy, for he was up within a week, and damn Hephaestion was up just a few days later.

"It was then that we marched across the deserts, as Arabs did, back to Ecbatana. We lost many, and never once did I expect to make it back to Ecbatana. I said my prayers to Zeus, and Hades, and I then rode on until my horse gave out beneath me. Then I walked, alongside Hephaestion and Alexander, who smiled all the while as if they had won some prize. At Ecbatana we were welcomed as heroes, for we were heroes I suppose. But it all ended in Ecbatana.

"Believe what you will about Hephaestion's death. Some believe that Roxanne had him poisoned, which is reasonable if you knew her well. She was cunning, and jealous, and she was the only one that would have dared. That is what Alexander told her, that she was the only one that would have dared. However, others believe that Hephaestion was merely sick, that malaria had struck him. Apparently, either way, miracles and physicians can only last for so long. In the end Hephaestion died, but Alexander was with him when he went, so it could not have been all that painful. The empire died that day, for with Hephaestion's soul went Alexander's soul, and my own soul went with him as well. You came to Ecbatana, though you might not recall the journey.

"When first Hephaestion became ill he asked to see you, a young boy of seven years old. Upon the moment that he saw you Alexander said he found his peace. I can see why, and did then. You were rushed away shortly after, for many reasons. A year later Alexander died, and again, you can believe what you choose to believe in. Either he died of a broken heart, or malaria, or he poisoned himself to join Hephaestion. Personally I believe that he drank the poison, but that is just one opinion among many.

"The empire fell moments after he died. It was, of course, left to Hephaestion. Since his will was unchanged we all knew not what to do. So we cut everything we'd striven to unify into four pieces and washed our hands of equality and Alexander's vision. But in those days I could only think of one thing, and that was of the two children that had the right to the empire. Roxanne and her infant were the first, and then there was you. I found your mother, and you, and took you before any other could. Hence, you are here now, breathing."

"It still does not answer my question," the young man in the chair said. Cassander turned to Hercules Alexandros and smirked. He was a bright child, barely fourteen, but already as wise as many of the men in Greece. His hair was fair, a dirty blonde color, and was straight as it fell down to his shoulders. Cerulean eyes were rimmed by dark lashes, cunning features really, and his jaw reminded Cassander of Hephaestion. He was defined, yes, but still held a beauty around him, like an aura, that made some question if he was built for war.

"Which was my father," Hercules asked, taking a sip of his water while he did so. The arrogance came from Alexander, and Cassander had never questioned this.

"You can choose between five options, for they are all that you have. You are very much like Alexander, and no one would question you if you were to say that you are Alexander IV out of Barsine. However, for even claiming this you would be killed. If it were believed to be true, you would be killed faster than you can blink. Secondly you could claim to be Hephaestion's child, and again, no one would question you. It is possible that he fathered you out of Barsine, even though his heart would not have been in the process. Yet, again, you would have the right to have the throne, because Alexander's will was still known by all. If Hephaestion is not here, the empire could go to you. Your death once more would be immediate. Or, if you would like, you could be my bastard child out of Barsine. I have many bastards wandering the world, I'm sure. Why should you not be mine? However, you'd be of no use to me, so I would have to give you some coin then set you free. Also, you could just be your mother's bastard, which is no good to anyone. Even she is dead, so again, there is no help there. But lastly, you can believe the myth that all others would be convinced to believe."

"What myth is this?"

"You are the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion. Half of you reminds me of Alexander, and the other half resembles Hephaestion. So, perhaps both of these great men can be your father."

"It is impossible."

"Everything that Alexander did was considered to be impossible by some," Cassander corrected. He then sat and lifted his cup of wine. He took a sip and then looked over the boy once more. "Yes, you are their son. However, you cannot say that just yet. You're too young, and too easy to kill. Believe me, I know these things."

"So it is true."

"What is true?"

"You were the one that had Roxanne and the infant murdered," Hercules said with a smirk. Cassander found himself wondering if he had picked up this trait, or if he'd already known it. Either way, it was almost disturbing. "There was talk, and this talk I believed."

"Then be thankful that you're not in the same predicament."

"Why," he then asked. "Why, if I could one day claim the right to the empire, would you keep me alive? Already you've taken care of most of Alexander's family line. Only Olympias remains, which I also cannot understand, and myself. Why am I alive?"

"You know why," Cassander answered. "For years I've envied Alexander and Hephaestion, and in a way, I have loved Hephaestion. You are the only remaining image of either of them. You are unmarred, and when I look at you I see both men. However, when you speak, there is only Hephaestion in your logic, reason, and demeanor. Hercules Alexandros, you someday may be even better than your father. The gods gifted Patroclaus to Achilles. They later gifted Hephaestion to Alexander. The newest gift they've given the world is you, the four greatest men to have ever lived put in one body."

"For one that does not believe much in gods, you surely credit them."

"Cassander," came a voice. Cassander motioned for the page to come in. Behind him he brought Ptolemy. Cassander nodded, a sign that Hercules should excuse himself. The boy did, but not before Ptolemy saw him. When the door shut Ptolemy was the first to speak.

"He looks nothing like your wife," he stated. "However, I must admit, I do not see much of him in you either."

"I am starting to question my wife," Cassander joked. "My daughter takes on the looks of her mother though, and a bit of myself if you've seen her angry, so it must be so. If you look at the boy standing next to my mother by marriage, then you'll see the resemblance."

"Roxanne is dead."

"And the child?"

"Dead as well."

"Pity," Cassander stated nonchalantly. "I do notice that you have come to me first though. Once again, you have no trust in me."

"Because you are the only one that would dare," Ptolemy answered. "I was just coming to warn you, there will be a Council. Already others are talking, and they want to place you responsible."

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh," Ptolemy said as he headed to the door. "Did I mention that Barsine was murdered as well?"

"No, but I had already heard that. Are you going to blame her death on me as well? What about the rest of the world, anyone that dies today can be on my shoulders. Is that how this Council is expected to work?"

"No, no," Ptolemy teased. "I was just going to mention that her child was not found. This means that an heir to the empire still remains."

"Perfect, go find him."

"Cassander, you are not the only one threatened. I fear that Nearchus may kill the child. Already he is searching for him. He threatens us all, in a way."

"Well, then good luck finding him," Cassander said as he pulled the door open for Ptolemy. "I have many things to do today Ptolemy. I will speak with you again at the Council."

"The boy," Ptolemy whispered, "should not leave your sight."

"My son," Cassander laughed, "will not."

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A/N: So that is the end of this tale. Cassander, cunningly, now has the heir of the empire in his custody. The only question is…should I write the story of how Cassander trains and readies him to take it back??? Let me know when you review!


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